After They Stopped Dancing
by lebardetriste
Summary: This is a creation for my inner child, who always wondered what happened to Belle and her prince after they stopped dancing. I did my best to honor the character development already established by the movie. To me, Disney's Beauty and the Beast is one of THE great love stories. This a direct continuation of the story, picking up just moments after the movie ends.
1. Chapter 1--The Spell is Broken

Belle's head was spinning and it wasn't merely from the dancing. She gazed up into the face of her prince charming, into those eyes. She was drawn to him. She smiled. It was irresistible, those eyes, him, this feeling. As she smiled up at him his smile broadened. He squeezed her hand as they glided past the servants, who had become her friends, at last in human form and past her father, finally safe.

As she smiled her eyes searched the prince's face. In her heart she knew this man and knew that she loved him, but in her head were many questions. The prince, long used to observing Belle's expression from the days when he anxiously sought any sign of her affection, slowed the pace at which he had been leading her across the floor. She held his gaze in hers, continuing to search his eyes for answers. Wordlessly, he slipped his hand from her waist and bowed. She dipped her head, curtsied, and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow as he led her out onto the balcony.

He graciously waited until she sat on the edge of the balcony before he sat himself. She smiled softly, touched at how well-mannered he had become. He edged closer to her, shyly, and took her hands in his. She looked up at him. There was so much he wanted to tell her. She watched him as he looked for the words. As he sat on the balcony with her, _her_, alive and well and human, he realized he was overwhelmed. Not nearly so much by the curse being broken and the transformation, but by the things he had known for a while but still couldn't believe—how beautiful she was and how much he loved her.

"Belle . . ." he began, "I hope now that you're back you'll consider staying here with me as mistress of this castle".

She smiled at him. She had come back in a hurry with the purpose of intervening, of finding a way to save him. She hadn't thought beyond that, of staying or of not staying. However, as she sat with him she could hardly think of leaving, not after everything, not now.

Encouraged by her expression the prince continued. He was nervous, she had a way of making him nervous, "I also hope you'll consider . . . being my wife".

She had been leaning in towards him but straightened a little, surprised. There was that word. Wife. She looked away from him and over the trees that stretched out beneath them. His eyebrows creased slightly, concerned at her reaction. He cursed himself inwardly. He should have waited. Gotten a ring. Proposed properly, down on one knee. Been more chivalrous. He was human, handsome, but not quite princely yet, much to his embarrassment.

"Marriage. . ." she murmured, still looking away from him and over the balcony out towards the horizon.

"You've been asked this before," the prince said. Belle pressed her lips together and looked down.

"Yes," she answered.

"And the idea displeased you?" the prince asked. For him, he had always assumed that if the curse was ever to be broken it would be swiftly followed by marriage. Was there any other way?

"Yes," Belle answered, "It displeased me."

The prince was surprised and unsure of how to respond. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit. What girl didn't want to fall in love and get married? And be a princess besides? He wanted her to be happy, her happiness was everything to him. He looked her over again, and he realized more fully than ever before that she was no ordinary girl. She was so beautiful in her golden dress, perched just so on the edge of the railing of the balcony, but she was looking down with an expression of . . . wanting. He had seen that expression before.

"Belle," he said gently, "You would be my wife, not my prisoner."

Her expression softened and once again she looked up at him. She felt frustrated with herself. She loved him. He loved her. She had had her adventure. He was clearly in a position to provide a wonderful life for her, and help take care of her papa. So what was it?

"I know," she answered, "It's just that—I've always wanted to be more than just someone's wife."

"You will be." The prince answered. She looked at him warily with an eyebrow raised.

He pulled her hands into his lap. "Perhaps, for the time being, a courtship would be more suitable."

"A courtship . . ." Belle repeated, "Dinner, dancing, long walks? And I'd still stay here? In my room?"

"Whatever you'd like," the prince responded. Belle nodded thoughtfully and shifted closer to him.

"All right then," she said, "A courtship." He smiled at her, so happy to have pleased her. She returned her gaze to his face, his strong features, trying not to be taken in by how handsome he suddenly was. She took one of his hands in both of hers and ran her fingers over it, turning it over in her palms, examining it. He was a long way from the beast who had fought off an entire wolf pack through brute force, but she could tell he was still quite strong. Broad shouldered, heavily muscled, tall. She liked it. Liked that his body was built so powerfully and yet that he handled her so gently. She hated to confess it, even to herself, but she liked strong men. It hadn't been Gaston's appearance that had so put her off, but his personality. His heart, or lack of one. Just as it had been the Beast's heart that won her despite his appearance. She continued considering his hands. The beast.

She looked up at him again. There was that handsome face, that stranger's face with only the eyes familiar to her.

"Who are you?" she asked suddenly, aware that she knew and yet didn't know as she asked it.

The prince sighed, and now it was his turn to look out over the balcony. How to answer that question? Where to begin?

"I'm Adam." he murmured, almost as much to himself as to her.

"Adam . . ." Belle repeated thoughtfully, and he closed his eyes for a moment. It had been so long since he had heard someone call him by his name, and he was so glad it was Belle who was saying it. He opened them and turned to face her.

"You never told me your name." Belle said, in a tone that was slightly teasing.

He continued looking at her, and tried not to focus on her lips. He wanted to be done with lengthy explanations. He wanted to slide his hand around her small waist and pull her close to him. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to marry her and carry her to the West Wing as his wife. For an instant he rolled his eyes internally at the idea of a courtship. Why had he even suggested it? He had never been a particularly patient man. He was madly in love and wanted her now, and enough of talking about the past. He became aware that she was watching him expectantly and sighed. He had been a beast too long to now be a man of many words, but he knew how inquisitive she was, and he knew he owed her an explanation.

"I didn't remember it," he told her.

"You didn't remember it?" Belle asked, astonished.

"No." Adam answered, "I had been a beast for a long time when you arrived. I had forgotten many things."

"Like how to read?" Belle asked. He smiled, he loved how clever she was, how her mind was always working, piecing things together.

"Yes." He answered her.

"And how to dance?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered again, "But dancing and reading I had only learned a little. The servants did what they could to teach me, to prepare me for court life, but I was . . .uncooperative. They also didn't have much time. The curse was cast when I was eleven."

"The curse?" Belle asked.

"One winter's night an old beggar woman came to the castle asking for shelter. I remember now, I remember walking to the door, pushing the servants out of the way, wanting to dispense with whoever it was quickly. I looked at her, standing there in the snow, shivering, holding out a rose to me in exchange for a room for the night. I looked at her and I felt . . ."

"Scared?" Belle supplied.

"Disgusted." The prince corrected, looking Belle in the eye, nearly wanting her to judge him, to pull her hands away from his. He felt the familiar pinch of fear that he was unloveable in his heart.

"Why?" Belle asked.

"She was poor, ugly, had nothing to offer me. I turned the old woman away. She begged, but I could not be moved. Just as I went to slam the door on her, she transformed into a beautiful enchantress. She cursed me, and this castle. Only if I could fall in love and earn that person's love in return would the spell be broken."

"And now the spell is broken." Belle remarked softly.

"And now the spell is broken." Adam answered, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth.

"Belle," he began again, "I wanted to tell you something before . . .I . . .tried to but I could see. . .I couldn't tell you when I knew that you were unhappy."

"What did you want to tell me?" Belle said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, feeling hardly able to speak over the thunderous pounding of her heart in her throat.

"I love you." Adam stated. He had never before said those words to someone. He felt like he had been holding his breath for a very long time and could suddenly breathe again. He was so relieved to tell her. He understood, as he watched the tears cling like drops of dew to Belle's long eye lashes, that love broke the spell because it is stronger than any curse could ever be.

She reached up and placed her palm on the side of his face, gently tracing the arc of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"I thought I was too late," she whispered, "I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm here," he responded. He once again caught the searching look in Belle's eyes as she scanned his face. She looked into those blue eyes of his . . .

"It's me." He reassured her again. She continued to trace her fingers lightly over his skin, tears trembling at the rim of her eyes.

"I love you, Adam." She told him. He reached up and grabbed the hand she had been resting on his face and kissed it. Smiling, fighting tears, he tugged on her arm and pulled her into him. He put his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply.


	2. Chapter 2--C'est L'amour

**One of you caught my shout-out to Tangled with the smoldering eyes! Yay! I thought it would be double-funny to have Lumiere tell Prince Adam to 'smolder', since he spent the last ten years as a candelabra. Also, someone else correctly pointed out that when Cogsworth called Lumiere 'mon ami' there should be no e on the end of 'ami' as he is speaking to Cogsworth (who is male) and an e would make the word feminine. **

**Thanks for all the great review guys!**

It would be something of an understatement to say that the servants of the castle had been through a lot with the prince. They did their best to care for him when he was a spoiled, demanding child. They shared the burden of the curse with him when he was an angry, isolated beast. And now they granted him patience as a young man wildly in love.

"We must explore the various avenues for your re-introduction into high society," Cogsworth advised him one morning shortly after his transformation, with his arms full of scrolls and treatises, "And the ways in which you can reestablish a relationship with your subjects."

The prince was sitting at his chair in front of the fire, looking absent-mindedly into the flames.

"Do you suppose I should have more blue clothing made for me?" he asked suddenly.

"I—what?" Cogsworth sputtered.

"She seems to like me best in blue. Has she mentioned anything to you about it?" the prince asked.

"Master, we really must—" Cogsworth began, but Lumiere interrupted him.

"Master, the girl fell in love with you when you were. . . in a far less agreeable state than this. I hardly think what color cloak you wear will affect her feelings for you."

"Hmmm . . .yes." the prince muttered. He didn't like to be reminded of the years he spent as a beast, how ugly he'd been when she'd first met him. The idea was an embarrassment, particularly because she had never been less than perfect.

"Do you suppose she finds me handsome now?" the prince asked. Cogsworth looked at Lumiere and shook his head in disbelief, while continuing to juggle his armload of documents.

"Of course. You are quite good looking now that you're yourself again." Lumiere replied, "The girl is yours now, the only thing you have to worry about is keeping the romance alive. Remember, you are French, romance is in your blood. Have you given her that smoldering look I taught you?"

Adam laughed, "I don't think I'm quite as good at smoldering as you are, Lumiere."

"Ah, well, years of practice I suppose," Lumiere responded, smiling.

"May we please get back to the matter at hand and address—" Cogsworth interjected.

The sound of the main doors opening and closing caused the prince to stand up suddenly.

"It's Belle!" the prince exclaimed, "She must be back from her ride!"

He hurried out into the great hall to meet her, with Cogsworth and Lumiere close behind.

"But, please, master, we must discuss—" Cogsworth tried again.

"Yes Cogsworth, just . . .do whatever you think is best," the prince responded absently as his eyes fell on Belle, who was just hanging up her cloak and turning to face him.

"How was your ride?" the prince asked.

"Good. The weather is getting warmer," Belle responded. She walked up to the prince and looped her arms around his neck. He placed his hands around her waist.

"I missed you," she said, looking up into his eyes, "Is this what love does to a person? I can't stand to be away from you for a minute . . ." she trailed off as she tugged him towards her into a kiss.

"I missed you too," the prince muttered, his lips half an inch from her mouth before returning her kiss, grabbing her dress roughly, lost to anything around him.

Cogsworth and Lumiere glanced at each other and left the hall quickly. Clearly the master was done with being counseled for the time being.

"I hardly think the master needs any assistance in keeping the romance alive," Cogsworth remarked to Lumiere with irritation.

"The master is young and in love. Relax. Let him enjoy this time," Lumiere responded.

"Why is it that I am the only one in this castle who seems to realize that our master is a prince, and as a prince he has certain responsibilities that cannot be ignored?" Cogsworth blustered.

"They were ignored for ten years," Lumiere said.

"Yes, when the master was a beast under a spell. And now that spell is broken and he is human again, he is a prince again, and certain matters must be attended to. But now he appears to be under a new spell, her spell." Cogsworth retorted.

"C'est l'amour," Lumiere said, "Nothing will break that spell."

They arrived in the kitchens where Cogsworth laid his documents down on the table.

"The master has much to catch up on. He needs tutoring in politics and the current state of affairs. If he marries the girl and makes her a proper princess, he may yet be received at court in Versailles, but first he must—"

"Has she accepted the master's proposal?" Mrs. Potts asked excitedly, bustling into the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes.

"Not yet," Lumiere responded, "The master must convince her that marriage isn't the same as losing her freedom."

"She was willing to become his prisoner, why does she hesitate to become his wife?" Cogsworth asked exasperatedly.

"She just needs more time," Mrs. Potts said confidently, "They've both been through a lot these past few days, more time will be good for the both of them."

Mrs. Potts surveyed the heap of papers Cogsworth had deposited on the table, "Cogsworth! Clear this mess up at once and return those papers to the library where they belong."

"Yes, well, I hoped for a spot of tea before—"

The kitchen door swung open again, bumping Mrs. Potts, who still held the tray of dirty dishes, waiting for Cogsworth to clear the table. The dishes clattered to the floor, many of the plates shattering.

"Oh!" a voice cried out sheepishly, "I beg your pardon!"

Maurice rushed to Mrs. Potts' side hurriedly to help pick up the mess.

"I'm so sorry, I meant no harm!" Maurice apologized, flinching as he cut his finger on one of the broken saucers, "I really must be more careful!"

"Yes, well, just be grateful the spell is broken, otherwise you might have killed someone." Cogsworth remarked, glancing at the heap of broken china as he finished gathering his papers off the table.

Mrs. Potts fixed a stern look on Cogsworth before turning to Maurice and saying, "Don't be silly dear, it was an accident."

"I just wanted to give you this," Maurice said, handing her a teaspoon, "I, uh, noticed you dropped it when you were cleaning up from lunch. I know how tidy you like things, I thought maybe you'd miss it."

Mrs. Potts smiled at him, "Yes, I do like things in their place. How kind of you to bring it to me."

Maurice smiled back and cleared his throat, "You do a wonderful job at seeing to everything around here. You certainly have a way with . . .dishes."

Cogsworth looked from Maurice to Mrs. Potts to Lumiere in astonishment. Lumiere began to smile his knowing smile.

"Pardon me," Maurice said again, looking up at Cogsworth and Lumiere as though he had just noticed them standing there, "Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all dear," Mrs. Potts said, giving Cogsworth and Lumiere a pointed look, "They were just on their way to the library."

"Yes," Lumiere said, "We were. Come Cogsworth."

Cogsworth looked over at Maurice and Mrs. Potts as Lumiere gave Cogsworth's shoulder a friendly pat and guided him out of the kitchen.

"Has this entire castle gone mad?" Cogsworth blustered once they were out of Mrs. Potts' earshot, "I'm starting to think that everything was much less complicated when we were all pieces of furniture!"

"Ahh, mon ami, but we're human again! What are a few complications. . . " Lumiere said, surveying Cogsworths' papers with a mixture of distaste and apathy, "Compared to that!"


	3. Chapter 3--True Beauty

Mrs. Potts was right about Belle and the Prince, and about everyone else in the castle for that matter. They all needed time to adjust to their new lives and the new expectations placed upon them.

For the prince, happy as he was, there was much he needed to sort out and get used to. The most obvious matter was the change in his physical form. For many years he had lived very much as a beast, sleeping on the floor, stalking down prey and dragging the carcasses back to the castle for supper, tearing through the castle with a mix of animal agility and brute force. Now . . .he slept in a bed, dressed in fresh clothing each morning, ate his breakfast sitting straight-backed at a table while taking proper care to use the correct utensils and not make a mess. Shoes were something he hadn't put on since the enchantment had been placed. Being unaccustomed to both the leather boots he now wore around the castle and the somewhat different center of balance in his new human form caused him to often trip over his own feet. Belle, of course, found this highly amusing while he, of course, found it extremely embarrassing.

Then there was also the matter that when he was last in human form he had been a boy of eleven, and now he was a man. He had spent his adolescence in the form of a beast, so getting used to his adult body was something of a second adolescence. The prince struggled to process the powerful feelings he felt for Belle along with his bewilderment that he was no longer a beast. He often felt awkward about his new body which made him shy around Belle and overwhelmed when alone.

With Belle he conducted himself as a perfect gentleman, pulling out chairs, bowing, only touching or kissing her when she signaled her interest. He had never been in a romantic relationship before and was still learning the delicate balance of give and take that comes with adult intimacy. He loved her so it was no chore but it was, nonetheless, an adjustment.

Beyond this, Cogsworth was yammering about needing to catch up on the current state of affairs, needing to learn the names and ranks of important officials, needing to find ways to reach out to his subjects. He didn't mean to be uncooperative, but with so many changes going on around him and within him his first priority was Belle. What would be the point of being human, of being a prince, if he had to live his life without Belle at his side as his wife?

Belle had much to consider as well. Being in love was new to her too, the lightheadedness, the preoccupation, the rush she felt through her body whenever he so much as touched her hand. And of course, the man she was in love with was new too, new at least in form, and at times she struggled to realize that her love for the beast and her love for the prince were, in fact, the same.

This prince. This prince she was reading to and eating breakfast with, laughing with and kissing, who she sat up with until all hours talking with and who she leapt out of bed first thing in the morning to go meet. She had loved the beast. She found herself both loving and feeling attracted to this prince. It made her feel guilty, as though she were betraying the beast somehow. Each time she found herself looking too long at his broad chest or handsome face she looked away, ashamed. Was she so shallow as to find this young, strong, handsome prince quite pleasing to look at?

"I suppose if I were to marry the bea—Adam I would be a princess," Belle remarked one morning to Mrs. Potts, who had come to tell her the master was awake and breakfast was ready. That was something else Belle struggled to get used to. If she were to marry Adam, Prince Adam, than she would be a princess. And any children they might have, if they had children, would be royal children.

"Of course love," Mrs. Potts said, smiling warmly at her, "You'll make a lovely princess."

"And . . .I suppose being a princess comes with certain . . .expectations?" Belle asked, putting a robe over her shift and walking to her wardrobe to select a dress for the day.

"I suppose it does," Mrs. Potts answered gently.

"I've read a lot about royal life," Belle commented, "There are rules for everything. How to dress, how to eat, how you must address others, how they must address you . . ."

"Are you unhappy love?" Mrs. Potts asked, coming closer to face Belle.

"What? No," Belle said quickly, "No, not at all. I love the bea—the prince, I mean—Adam. It's just that I . . ."

Mrs. Potts surveyed Belle with a look of motherly concern. Belle looked back at her, a little sheepish. What would Mrs. Potts think of her? And what right did Belle have to complain? Mrs. Potts had lived a life of servitude only to be rewarded by a curse that turned her into a teapot for ten years.

"Mrs. Potts?" Belle asked.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Potts responded, maternal enough to sense that Belle needed to talk.

"You must have lived in this castle a long time," Belle commented.

"Yes, I have." Mrs. Potts responded.

"And you never wanted, I don't know, something else? More freedom?" Belle asked, a sudden fire in her eyes. Belle loved Adam, but the thought of marriage, where her future was inextricably linked to her husband and the thought of being a princess, where her life was chained to the castle, made her feel like she was being asked to give up her freedom all over again. She remembered how she felt after Gaston proposed to her. How she had wanted someone who knew she wanted so much more than they had planned. She was still that person. The transformation may have changed many things, but not that.

Mrs. Potts smiled at Belle. To Mrs. Potts, Belle was many things—strong, kind, smart, lovely. A perfect match for the stubborn, moody, and sheltered prince. She was fond of Belle, she always had been. Nevertheless, Belle was little more than a child to Mrs. Potts. She looked at Belle in her robe, which was a little too large for her petite form and kept sliding off of one shoulder, which Belle had to keep pulling back up as she spoke. Whisps of hair had come loose from her ponytail, refusing to be tamed. Belle stood facing Mrs. Potts with an expression that was both respectful and a little impetuous.

"I think we've all wondered what our lives would have been like if things were different, at one time or another," Mrs. Potts said carefully, "When we were under the spell, there were times where I wished I could be anywhere else."

Belle felt a rush of sympathy for Mrs. Potts, and nearly wanted to hug the old woman. She wasn't sure if Mrs. Potts would be uncomfortable with this, and so restrained herself.

"But I had Chip, and Cogsworth and Lumiere, and yes, the master too, to look after." Mrs. Potts said. She looked at Belle and smiled, "I love those boys. And they needed me. At some point, being there for those you love becomes more important than having adventures. I daresay being there for those you love becomes the adventure."

Belle smiled at Mrs. Potts and nodded.

"There, there child. You don't have to decide anything right now, except for what dress you'll wear today. The master will give you as much time as you need."

Belle nodded again, and again pulled the collar of her robe up over her shoulder.

"Will we being seeing you for breakfast?" Mrs. Potts asked.

"Yes." Belle answered, "Please tell Adam I'll be right there."

Mrs. Potts gave a quick nod and turned to go, her skirts rustling as she made her way to the door.

"Mrs. Potts?" Belle said, just as Mrs. Potts was about to step through the doorway. Mrs. Potts turned to look at her.

"Thank you." Belle said.

"Of course dear," Mrs. Potts replied, then quickly left the room to notify the master that Belle would be joining him momentarily.

Belle turned back to her wardrobe. She missed the days when it could talk to her, make suggestions, compliment her. It was strange, but at times she felt a little lonely now that everyone in the castle was human again. She hesitated, looking all of the dresses over carefully, running her slender fingers over the fine fabrics. She wondered which one Adam liked her best in . . .she shook her head at herself. Was she truly becoming this kind of woman? A woman who couldn't even decide what to wear without first considering her beloved's opinion? She sighed and selected a deep purple dress with gold trim. She liked the color and Adam hadn't seen her in it yet.

She arrived in the dining hall fresh faced, hair styled in a half up twist. Adam had been sitting at the table but stood when he heard the clicking of her shoes approaching.

She went up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good morning, Belle." He said.

"Good morning," she replied, smiling at him. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"It's no trouble to wait for you," the prince said as he pulled her chair out for her. He looked her in the eyes and added, "Please know you are always free to take as long as you need."

Belle smiled and sat, taking a deep draught from her goblet. The prince seated himself across from her at the long dining table and looked at her, taking her in. Each morning he could hardly believe she was still there, still as beautiful as ever, still looking at him like she might leap from her chair and kiss him at any moment.

"You're looking very lovely today, Belle." Adam said, "Is that a new dress?"

Belle dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin to hide her smile and cleared her throat.

"What? Oh—this? No, I don't think so," Belle demurred. She surveyed him as well. He was looking quite princely in a navy blue jacket with charcoal trim.

"You look handsome," she said. An expression of surprise crossed the prince's face. She had never told him he was handsome and, after living so long as a beast, it was not something he expected to hear. He wasn't sure if he should like hearing it or not. The enchantress had certainly made sure that he would never forget the words 'true beauty is found within'. He shifted a little in his chair, his adolescent-like self-consciousness making him blush. She felt that feeling of shame, felt that she shouldn't notice or care that he was handsome. A sense of discomfort hovered between them. Belle considered quickly changing the subject, but instead she pushed her chair away from the table and ran to his side.

She leaned down and held his face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes.

"I love you," she said, "I loved you before and I love you now."

Adam reached up and took one of her hands in his.

"I love you too. It's all right, Belle," Adam said, he hesitated then told her, "I like it that you find me handsome."

It was true, he did both notice and enjoy Belle's lingering looks, the way she sometimes brushed her fingers across his chest before pulling her hands away a little guiltily, as though she were a child who had just been caught doing something she shouldn't. He half expected the enchantress to appear to punish him for being pleased that Belle found him handsome. When nothing happened, he relaxed. He smiled at Belle and said teasingly, "Just try to remember that true beauty is found within"

For a second a look of guilt passed over Belle's expression, but realizing the prince was teasing her she pushed his shoulder and exclaimed, laughing, "I think I know that!"

Belle smiled at him, relieved that she could be more open about her newfound physical attraction to him. She looked down at his sleeve.

"Where do you keep getting all these blue clothes?" she asked. She looked back up at his face and raised an at him eyebrow teasingly.

Adam blushed again and cleared his throat. He looked past Belle and towards the doorway that lead to the kitchens.

"Where _is_ Mrs. Potts with our tea?" he murmured, glancing sideways at Belle, who was trying not to laugh.

Belle put a hand under the prince's chin and turned his face back towards hers.

"I like you in blue because it brings out the color of your eyes," Belle told him. She added dreamily, "I've always loved your eyes."

She stood up straight, kissed his forehead gently, and then made her way back to her seat at the other end of the table. The prince watched her and considered asking her to marry him again just as Mrs. Potts bustled in with the tea tray.


	4. Chapter 4--Spring and Other Troubles

It was springtime, the thrill of being human again had yet to wear off, and love was blossoming along with all the roses at the castle. Belle and Adam often dashed about the castle, wild and young and in love, oblivious to anyone or anything around them. Once, tired of her laughing at him for his clumsiness, he chased her through the castle to prove that at least he was still faster than she was. When he finally caught her outside in the gardens she looked up at him, panting and out of breath, and asked what he was going to do with her now that he had caught her. The only answer he could respond with was a passionate kiss, which she returned with equal fervor and, both already dizzy from running, they lost their balance and fell into a rose-bush. The thorns, and their laughter, complicated their ability to extricate themselves from their undignified position. When they finally re-entered the castle dirty, cut, and with ripped clothing, the servants could only shake their heads and say 'C'est l'amour!".

Another time they fell into one of the fountains out on the grounds, and began laughing and splashing each other like children. When they walked into the great hall of the castle sopping wet, tracking water and mud all over the floor and still suppressing giggles, they heard Mrs. Potts approaching. The prince grabbed Belle by the arm and ran with her around a corner, where they pressed themselves against the wall. The prince looked at Belle and pressed his forefinger to his lips. Belle put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"This hall is filthy! Just look at this mess!" Mrs. Potts exclaimed, "We must stop letting the dog back into the castle when he's been out digging on the grounds, I've told Babette . . ." Mrs. Potts' voice faded as she left the hall to find a mop. Belle and the prince turned to run down the hall only to see that Cogsworth had been standing behind them the whole time, fixing upon them a very disapproving look.

They danced, took long walks, talked about their dreams and their childhoods. Belle helped the prince re-learn horseback riding, which at least did something to please Cogsworth, who insisted that a prince must look dignified on a horse. Evenings they usually spent in the library, spending at least as much time looking into each other's eyes as they did looking at the books they claimed to be reading.

Despite the distracting influence of Belle's presence, Adam had become so good at reading that one evening as they sat together on the library floor he corrected _her _pronunciation of a word. She looked up at him, surprised, and snapped the book closed on his fingers.

"You clearly don't need any more tutoring," she teased him, starting to stand up as though to leave. He grabbed her dress and pulled her into his lap so that she was facing him. He took her beautiful face between his hands, his fingers tangled in her hair. He looked her over and shook his head in amazement.

"I didn't dare believe this could really happen," he remarked, looking at her as though she might vanish any second.

"Neither did I," Belle whispered.

"I'm so in love with you," the prince murmured in amazement, "When you came back I knew I could die happy because I got to see your face once last time. It didn't matter if you didn't love me back. I could still die happy."

"But I did love you back," Belle said, "I did and I do and I always will."

The prince wanted to propose again, but decided against it. He was afraid she still might say no and didn't want to spoil this moment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. She nuzzled against his chest and he simply held her, resting his cheek lightly against the top of her head, thinking of the different ways in which he might make her happy should she agree to be his wife.

The prince was undeniably distracted and conversing with him regarding anything other than Belle was nearly impossible. However, he was not the only one preoccupied by the thrill of being human again.

Mrs. Potts and Maurice shared lingering glances and shy smiles. Lumiere had been caught behind many castle curtains with Babette, along with a few other young attractive castle maids besides. Madame de la Grande Bouche, liberated from her years as a wardrobe, paraded through the halls of the castle, singing opera, wearing grand gowns, and making eyes at Cogsworth who was, of course, oblivious.

The children of the servants of the castle, lead by Chip, played hard both in the castle and out on the grounds. They chased the dog, pushed one another, yelled, pretended to sword fight with sticks, climbed trees, and were in general rambunctious and unruly, despite being chastised often by the adult servants of the castle. No one could be too angry with them though, no doubt years of living under the spell had left them with much unspent energy.

Cogsworth continued to pour over scrolls and letters, muttering to himself about the state of things. One afternoon he stood at one of the large windows of the castle, looking out on the grounds. Lumiere approached him, looking slightly disheveled and straightening his collar.

Cogsworth saw Lumiere's reflection in the glass and rolled his eyes.

"Conducting yourself with your usual amount of self-possession, I see," Cogsworth muttered.

Lumiere smiled roguishly and said, "Have you been waiting ten years for the spell to break so that you could be as boring and inflexible as you were when you were a clock?"

Cogsworth sighed, "So glad to know that despite the fact you are no longer perpetually on fire your wit remains undimmed."

Lumiere opened his mouth to respond but Cogsworth turned to him and raised his hand to stop him.

"A momentary truce, if we may," Cogsworth said, he paused, then asked, "Have you been successful in engaging the master in any conversations that don't revolve around discussing every minutiae of his feelings for the mademoiselle?"

"I've hardly seen the master since the spell has broken much less engaged him in conversation. He's courting, and when a man his courting he needs his privacy," Lumiere responded.

Cogsworth reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a letter and handed it to Lumiere.

"While the rest of you have been racing through the castle halls like lustful adolescents, I have dispatched scouts to ascertain the current state of affairs in the nearby villages. One of them intercepted this letter," Cogsworth told him, watching Lumiere's typically mischievous expression harden into something much more serious.

"Sacre bleu!" Lumiere exclaimed under his breath as he examined the document, he looked up at Cogsworth and asked, "Is the situation so serious?"

"Quite. I have attempted to broach the matter with the master on a few occasions but retaining his attention has proven difficult," Cogsworth replied.

"You must tell him," Lumiere said, handing the letter back to Cogsworth, "You must tell him so he can act."

Cogsworth nodded, looked back down at the letter, and said, "I'll go find him now."

Lumiere took Cogsworth's place at the window and sighed.

"Human again," he muttered, shaking his head.


	5. Chapter 5--A Conversation

Cogsworth found the master with Belle in the sitting room. They were seated close to one another on a sofa, talking in low voices to each other and laughing quietly. It was impossible to approach the master these days without feeling terribly intrusive, as he was always either with Belle or lost deep in his own private thoughts. Cogsworth hesitated, then cleared his throat and said, "Master?"

Belle and the prince stopped talking and looked up at him. They had the slight expression of surprise they usually had on their faces when, for one reason or another, they realized the presence of someone besides each other.

Cogsworth paused. He couldn't help but be struck by how much they looked like a royal couple. They were indisputably both very good looking, both dressed in fine but conservative attire, and they both possessed a stately bearing. They had a quiet dignity softened by their genuine affection for one another. For a second Cogsworth felt a tug in his heart. He had known the master since he was born and here he was sitting before him, suddenly grown-up. He repressed this feeling, believing it inappropriate given his station, and redirected his thoughts to the issue he had come to present to the master.

"Well, I feel it is my duty to inform you, eh, well, erm," Cogsworth fumbled gracelessly with his words, causing both the prince and Belle to look concerned.

Truthfully, though he felt a fondness for the master, Cogsworth still felt intimidated by him. The over twenty years Cogsworth had spent trying to avoid the master's fits of temper were deeply ingrained in the way in which Cogsworth approached and interacted with him. Though the prince had been nothing but warm and kind with Cogsworth, the little he had seen him, since the spell had been broken, Cogsworth still couldn't quite shake his anxiety when addressing him.

"I'm—well I hoped I might speak to the master regarding . . .perhaps this is a bad time?" Cogsworth sputtered. The prince looked at Cogsworth quizzically.

"Not at all," the prince responded warmly, "Please sit." He gestured to a vacant arm chair near to where he sat with Belle.

"All right," Cogsworth muttered, "Thank you, your grace."

"Are you going to keep letting them call you things like 'your grace' or 'master'?" Belle asked, turning to the prince and crinkling her nose.

The prince smiled and took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently, teasing, "One change at a time mon ange."

"That was hardly your attitude when you asked me to marry you," Belle retorted, crossing her arms. The prince smiled and opened his mouth to respond when Cogsworth again cleared his throat, causing them both to turn to him.

"Please excuse us," the prince said, sitting up straighter, "I very much want to hear what you came to tell me."

Cogsworth looked from Belle to the prince and then down at the floor. He fidgeted a little in his chair. Belle tilted her head and examined Cogsworth, who lifted his head and looked back at her.

She smiled softly and said, "I haven't been paying nearly enough attention to my father lately. I think I'll go see him now."

Her skirt rustled as she stood up and leaned over to place a hand on the prince's forearm, saying, "I hope you'll both excuse me."

The prince and Cogsworth both motioned to stand, but Belle put her hand out to stop them and said, "Please, stay seated. I'll see to the door myself, I insist."

She walked gracefully to the doorway and smiled at both of them before shutting the door quietly behind her. The prince watched her go with a distinctly dreamy expression.

"I think perhaps she gets more beautiful each day," the prince commented.

"The mademoiselle is lovely master," Cogsworth agreed.

"Do you think she'll agree to marry me?" the prince asked.

"I—I think so . . master, I came here to discuss, there is a matter which—" Cogsworth stumbled over his words again, wanting both very much to snap the master out of his daze and allow him to enjoy being in love.

The prince, noticing Cogsworth fidgeting with his pocket watch, realized that Cogsworth was nervous. With some difficulty he pulled his thoughts away from Belle and rested them on the faithful servant that sat before him. He had known Cogsworth for all of his life. Truthfully, Cogsworth had been wound a little tight long before he was a clock. He was someone whose mind very much tended to worry and who had an anxious turn of temperament. He was obsessed with making a good impression, but lacked Lumiere's charm or Mrs. Potts warmth. This gave him a certain fastidiousness that made him seem a bit stuffy and aloof, but beneath that was a certain vulnerability, a genuine desire to please.

The prince felt a feeling of warm fondness towards Cogsworth, who after all had helped raised him, who had always been at his side. He felt guilty for the way he had treated him in the past and the years Cogsworth spent under the curse. It hurt him to consider how anxious Cogsworth always was, how unpleasant that must be for him and how he himself, due to his temper, had caused much of that anxiety.

"Master," Cogsworth began again, "I wanted to speak with you because there is a matter which demands your attention."

"Please know that you can come speak to me whenever you like," the prince responded genially.

"Thank you," Cogsworth said, "Your grace, I recently dispatched scouts to ascertain the current situation in the nearby villages."

The prince's brow creased, "Did I order this?" he asked.

Cogsworth felt a rush of anxiety, but pressed on, "You instructed me to do what I thought best. I thought it best."

The prince's expression softened and he sighed. He didn't remember telling Cogsworth this, but then, he had to admit to himself that he had hardly been attentive to the happenings around the castle as of late. He told Cogsworth, "Of course. A wise decision."

"Thank you," Cogsworth answered, he hesitated and then continued, "I'm afraid rumors continue to circulate about a, well, a-uh monstrous beast in an enchanted castle."

The prince shifted his weight in discomfort and replied, a little shortly, "The beast is gone."

"Yes," Cogsworth acknowledged, "But the villagers don't know that the beast is gone. What they do know is that the mademoiselle Belle, her father, and the town hero, a fellow named Gaston, are all missing. And that the men of the village were injured and defeated by an army of bewitched objects."

The prince looked down at his hands, an expression of concern darkening the lightness of his features.

"Gaston was killed," the prince muttered. Cogsworth looked at the prince with a very serious expression. The prince looked back at him and added quickly, "I didn't do it. I couldn't . . .it's complicated."

"You're certain he didn't escape into the forests, injured perhaps?" Cogsworth asked.

"I'm . . .yes, I'm fairly certain." The prince responded. Cogsworth considered attempting to press for more details, but the prince's tone dissuaded him from doing so.

"There has been talk among the villagers of leading another attack on the castle," Cogsworth stated. The prince's eyes widened in astonishment. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He only wanted to enjoy his courtship with Belle and convince her to marry him. The last thing on his mind was repelling a siege on the castle.

"We were able to turn them back before," the prince replied.

"The situation has become more complicated. I intercepted this letter," Cogsworth said, retrieving the paper he showed to Lumiere from his jacket and presenting it to the prince. The prince looked at it warily, but took it.

The prince's eyes quickly scanned back and forth over the paper.

"They are requesting able bodied men from the surrounding villages to join them in a second storming of the castle," Cogsworth explained, "If they are successful in gathering these forces our defenses will not hold against them."

"And when they see there is no beast?" the prince asked.

"It may already be too late," Cogsworth responded, "There is more. Master, the political and economic situation is becoming increasingly precarious. Public sentiment is turning against the nobility and the crown. Rumors that monsters live in the great castles of France will hardly help this situation. Sir, you must quash these rumors and reach out to the villagers. You must do anything and everything to secure your position for the safety this castle."

The prince looked down at the letter, then back up at Cogsworth. This was a man who had spent many years of his life trying to do everything for him. He felt a weight in his stomach. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that he wasn't even entirely certain how many servants lived with him in the castle. Yet he was responsible for them all, and had already failed them, had already caused them so much suffering.

"Please know that ensuring the safety of this castle and all of its inhabitants is of the utmost importance to me." the prince said.

"Then you must ride to town and tell them that the beast has been destroyed," Cogsworth told him, "You must try to convince them that you slay the beast, destroyed the enchanted objects which caused the villagers' humiliation, and commandeered this castle. Present yourself as the conquering hero, the noble prince come to offer them protection and prosperity."

"And how do I do that? I can hardly bring them the beast's head," the prince responded.

"With any luck you will so impress them your word will be enough," Cogsworth paused and added, "Of course you'll bring Belle and her father with you to prove that they are alive, well, and unharmed."

"And what do I tell them about Gaston?" the prince asked.

"Tell them he fought the beast valiantly but unfortunately was overpowered by him. Explain that you barely showed up in time to save Belle."

Prince Adam continued to consider the letter, his chin resting pensively between his thumb and his forefinger.

"I have been many unpleasant things in my life," the prince said after a few moments of silence, handing the letter back to Cogsworth and raising his eyes to look into his head of household's face, "But a liar is not one of them."

Cogsworth took the letter and tucked it away again into the inside pocket of his jacket. The sun was setting, and the room was becoming as dark as the subject matter. Cogsworth rose from his place in the armchair to light some candles. As he set down the match, he looked at the candles, completely lifeless and inanimate, filling the room with a soft orange light. He had a habit of handling all the objects in the castle with veneration as though every napkin, table, and teacup still had a soul. The prince observed Cogsworth's contemplativeness and looked down at his own hands. He felt surprised, as always, to see long hairless fingers fanning out from his palm, the candlelight flickering shadows on his skin.

"It's very strange," the prince commented softly. Cogsworth roused himself from his reverie and cleared his throat.

"Master," Cogsworth said, coming around to seat himself once more in the arm chair, "Sometimes it is necessary to lie when the truth is beyond believing."

"Can you believe it?" the prince asked. Cogsworth looked around the room, filled with tables and chairs that were simply tables and chairs, down at his feet which were not made of wood but of flesh and bone and clothed in shoes, and up at his master who was, for all appearances, a handsome prince of marriageable age. Though the spell had been lifted very recently, Cogsworth didn't let himself think very much about the curse and how much had changed. He preferred to move onward as though nothing had happened. The strange beauty of the spell being lifted was a prospect that overwhelmed him, and so he put it out of mind whenever possible.

"I often . . .cannot." Cogsworth answered. "And you, sire?"

"Barely," the prince answered. The silence and the shadows lengthened between them. It had not occurred to Adam that should the spell break his life afterward would present him with so many responsibilities. He was not yet used to being human, let alone an adult, a prince, hopefully soon a husband.

The prince frowned and closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. He muttered, "I'm a prince who has spent nearly half my life as a beast. I don't know how to do anything."

"Master, I feel I must apologize. I feel we failed you, it was our duty to prepare you—" Cogsworth began.

"No," the prince interrupted brusquely, he caught himself and added more graciously, "I am frustrated but it is only with myself. You did everything you could. It's my fault I'm ill-prepared for my duties. It's all my fault."

"We will do everything we can to advise you," Cogsworth responded, "We will support you, do whatever is necessary to ensure your success."

"Thank you," the prince said, wishing he had paid much more attention to the lessons he had as a boy.

"Master," Cogsworth began tentatively, the prince looked at him warily, and Cogsworth continued, "I feel it would also be prudent to establish contact with your father—"

"My father?" the prince interrupted angrily, "The father who sent me away to live here after my mother died?"

"The castle needs guards, sire," Cogsworth advised, "Your father has tremendous resources at his disposal and will have the means to send you some well-trained and trustworthy men who can help protect the castle. Moreover, you will need the monarch's approval to make your marriage to the mademoiselle official as she is not of noble blood—"

"I don't care about that!" the prince snapped loudly, his eyes flashing, "No one can tell me I can't marry Belle except Belle!"

"Sire, your father is brother to the king and can easily get his support. The marriage will not be recognized as official unless you secure the king's approval. Any children you would have together would be illegitimate in the eyes of the law. Master, you must begin to forge allegiances to ensure both the security of this castle and your future as a prince. Should you have children, you would want them born into a situation where they are well-received and enjoy a certain amount of social and financial security. The world around us is becoming very complex. Your father seems a logical place to look for an ally."

The prince sighed deeply and covered his face with his hand. It had been so long since he had been a part of the world, and even then he hadn't been very much part of it. When he was very small he lived with his mother and father in a beautiful palace. Shortly after his mother died, his father sent him away with a large retenue of servants to live in the castle he had built for his mother. Once he had been sent away, the prince only really interacted with his servants, who, feeling sorry for him, catered to his every whim and conceded to each demand. Then he lived as a beast, growing farther apart from humanity with each passing day. Had Belle not come along when she did, he soon would have lost himself completely, eventually running off to live in the woods.

He was tremendously sheltered, he had rarely ever been outside of a palace or castle, and he had no real knowledge or understanding of how the world around him worked. The prince was tempted to run away somewhere with Belle and leave everything behind, yet what Cogsworth had mentioned about children echoed in his mind. He wanted to build a family and a life with Belle. He wanted to be a better person to try to make up for who he had been, the kind of heartless monster that would turn an old woman out into the snow or lock a helpless old man in the tower. He wanted to be someone who deserved Belle. Adam thought about what that would mean, and supposed it would mean being a generous prince, a devoted husband, a loving father, a good man.

"I'll ride for town first thing tomorrow morning," the prince told Cogsworth, "And explain to the townspeople that the beast . . . has been destroyed. I'll speak to Belle and Maurice about coming with me. Tomorrow evening I'll write to my father and invite him here to the castle. I . . .will do my best to perform my responsibilities. It would trouble me a great deal, of course, to let anyone down."

"I'm sure you'll be splendid your grace," Cogsworth assured him, standing to leave, "I'll have the stable boys ready the horses. Is there anything else you require of me, master?"

"No," the prince answered, "Thank you."

"Of course, sire." Cogsworth answered. He bowed and left the room, his mind busy with the list of items that needed attended to before he could finally retire to bed for the night.

The prince looked into the candle flames, considering how he would explain himself to the townspeople. He thought further about what he would write to his father, a man he hadn't addressed in fifteen years. Would his father even read a letter from him? Why had his father never visited or written in the many years Adam had been at the castle? Why had he ensconced him in this faraway place with no family, no feeling of belonging, no love? He felt a familiar feeling flare in his ribcage—anger. For a moment his fury at his father flashed white-hot and he reached out quickly towards the candelabra to hurl it against the wall, but stopped himself just short of grabbing it. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hand yet again, which was shaking slightly. Remembering his resolve to be a good man, he instead gently lifted the candlelabra and held it aloft, leaving the room to find Belle so he could explain to her what Cogsworth had told him. He would not give into his temper. Against all odds the spell had been broken. He was human again and he was determined to keep it that way.


	6. Chapter 6--The Past is the New Present

It had not been difficult to convince Maurice that a visit to town was necessary and that his presence would help convince the villagers of the prince's good intentions. Belle, on the other hand, was substantially harder to persuade.

"You want us all to ride into town and try to court their good favor?!" she had exclaimed, crossing her arms, anger hardening the softness of her features, "After what they did?! They tried to lock my father into the asylum! They almost killed you! I don't want to have anything to do with them!"

Only after Belle understood that the safety of everyone in the castle depended on winning the good-will of the villagers had she agreed to any of them going to town.

Cogsworth had insisted that the prince ride to town on a horse and wear a sword on his belt in order to look more heroic. He was dressed in white trousers and a blue military coat. Belle and Maurice rode a little behind him in a carriage, with Cogsworth steering the horses. The prince bounced around uncomfortably in his saddle wondering exactly how far town was from the castle while attempting, in vain, to keep his anxiety in check.

The prince supposed, as he straightened his back after hearing Cogsworth call out to him 'Posture master!', that he ought to learn how to use the sword that was now dangling awkwardly at his side. As a child and then as a beast he had not had much use for weaponry. But of course things were different now.

In the carriage Maurice and Belle sat next to each other, Maurice looking out the window and Belle fussing with her gown with a worried expression on her face. Maurice was looking quite dapper in black trousers, a burgundy vest, and a mustard colored jacket. Belle wore a deep midnight blue dress with light blue trim. The skirt was fuller then she was used to and, with her hair piled up on top of her head and decorated with red and blue roses, along with the gloves and a parasol that Madame de la Grande Bouche had insisted upon to accessorize her attire, she felt ostentatious.

She worried for Adam. As they had prepared to leave the castle he had struggled to pull himself up onto his horse, his foot had slipped out of the stirrup resulting in him falling the first time he tried it. When Cogsworth had presented him with a sword he held it like a little boy, looking as though he might accidentally knock something over with it. She shook her head to herself. In moments such as those she saw it more clearly than ever that he was still her sweet beast who hadn't known how to feed birds or use a spoon. Still, she felt for him. He was shouldering the burden of many expectations.

"Do you think it will go well?" Belle asked her father, who turned his face away from the window to look at his daughter.

"I think so," Maurice said, smiling and squeezing Belle's hand, "How could it not? You're both so good-looking and charming . . .you're quite a pair you know."

"And you—you're sure you like that we're a pair?" Belle asked.

"Of course." Maurice responded, "I hold no grudges against him. All I need to know is that you love each other and he makes you happy. As a father that's all I can ask for."

"Oh papa!" Belle said, hugging Maurice. His gentle, open heart is what she loved about him and what made him a wonderful father to her. The carriage stopped.

Belle looked out the window and saw the familiar cobblestone streets, the shops with their doors flung open to let in the breeze from the late spring day, the hagglers at market arguing about the price of bacon. She turned back to father, the worried expression returning to her face.

"We're here." She said.

The arrival of a handsome prince on a white steed followed by an ornate carriage did not go unnoticed by the townspeople, who stopped their bargaining, gossiping, and prattling to stare.

Cogsworth climbed down from the driver's seat and cleared his throat.

"Announcing his royal highness Prince Adam Auguste de Bourbon!" Cogsworth proclaimed in his best regal voice. The townspeople stood motionless, looking a little stunned but not quite impressed.

Adam had not been addressed by his full title in many, many years and after being only referred to as 'master' or 'beast' for so long, he couldn't help but find it a bit ridiculous sounding. He wished his royal highness wasn't quite so high off the ground, and wondered how he was going to dismount from his horse with any amount of grace. Fully aware of the many eyes fixed upon him, he climbed down from his horse, wobbling only slightly, then standing straight-backed and quite princely in front of the villagers.

"Citizens," he began, then remembering what Cogsworth had told him about projecting his voice, he said more loudly, "I have come to bring you news of the beast's demise."

Gasps and murmurs of surprise rustled throughout the crowd. The prince heard people muttering 'the beast', 'the monster', 'the terrifying creature' along with exclamations of fear and surprise. He glanced down at his hands, as though to remind himself he was no longer any of these things.

"What happened?" one man called out

"Is it dead?" a woman cried.

"That hideous beast?! Has it been slain?!" yet another man yelled.

"There is nothing to fear any longer," the prince said, "The beast has been destroyed."

There were more gasps and the dull din of many people talking at once. Finally, the baker made his voice heard above all others.

"Who killed it?" he asked. The townspeople turned their faces back to the prince as several others echoed the baker's question.

"How was it killed?" a woman called out, with panic in her voice, "How can you be sure it's dead?"

"I—uh—well, he—it was. . . " the prince sputtered, struggling to reconcile the fact that he was not the hideous beast who was the target of the townspeople's terror and rage but a prince, riding into town on a white steed with stories of victory.

"The prince stabbed him in the side and killed him," a clear voice rang out into the sweet air of the spring day. Belle stepped out of the carriage with Maurice following behind her. Her blue skirts billowed around her like a cloud, her lips bloomed as rosy on her face as the red flowers in her hair. She was as beautiful as ever, and certainly more regal. It took a few seconds for the townspeople to recognize her, and when they did the town began to hum with astonishment.

"I foolishly called out to the beast from a balcony," Belle continued, looking sideways at the prince before directing a determined gaze at the crowd, "I still believed he was kind and gentle and that I could stop him from killing Gaston. I was wrong. He threw Gaston from a gable and climbed up the roof of the castle towards me. The prince arrived just in time. He was able to climb up to the beast and kill him just as the beast reached where I was on the balcony. The beast was surprised by the attack and let go of the railing of the balcony, and he fell. If the prince hadn't arrived when he did, my father and I would probably be dead."

"What were you doing there?" one of the townspeople shouted at the prince.

The prince looked at Belle, who tried to give him an encouraging look.

"The castle was built for my mother who died when I was a boy. Now that I am of age, I was on my way to the castle to reclaim it as my own. I heard signs of struggle and intervened." The prince responded.

"In the middle of the night?" the fishmonger yelled.

"Yes," the prince replied, "My horse . . .had lost his way in the wood, delaying my arrival."

"How incredibly fortunate," another voice stated. "It seems you arrived only just in time." Leaning against a post that held up one of the stands in the market was Monsieur D'Arque, looking at the prince with both smugness and suspicion.

"Yes," Belle responded, walking up to the prince and sliding her arm through his elbow, "It was. Princes tend to have remarkably good timing, always turning up when a damsel in distress needs them most."

The prince wasn't quite sure what to be most astonished at. Belle's willingness to lie, her adeptness at lying, or the fact that he was fairly certain she had just referred to herself as a damsel in distress.

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle noticed the Bimbettes sighing and eyeing her prince with an adoring expression she had seen them previously reserve for Gaston. She scanned the crowed for Lefou, but didn't see him present.

"Who are you to speak for a prince?" Monsieur D'Arque asked Belle, his eyes narrowing.

"Belle is my intended bride," the prince announced to the town, "I wish to marry her and have her live with me in the castle as my princess."

"She's not a princess!" the baker exclaimed, "She's a peasant!"

"You can't marry her!" a woman in the crowd cried out.

"Why _would_ you marry her?" someone else asked.

"Belle has won my heart with her beauty, courage, and kindness," the prince proclaimed, attempting to use his best prince voice, "Of noble blood or not, I can marry no other."

The crowd seemed more astonished by this than by the revelation that Gaston and the beast had both been killed. The inventor's daughter? Certainly she was beautiful, but she was so . . .odd. Why on earth would a handsome prince want to make her his wife? She'd make a fool out of both of them at court. What did it say for the nobility that such a strange girl would give birth to royal children? Is this why she had rejected Gaston's proposals? Was she holding out for the wealthiest groom she could find? First she had lived with that beast, and now this. It seemed the inventor's daughter was much more interested in gold than in the suitability of her prospective husbands.

"Where's the beast's body?" a man shouted.

"We want its head!" someone else shouted, to a chorus of agreements from the crowd.

"We have searched the grounds, but we have been unable to find the beast's remains," the prince stated, "We suspect the wolves got to the remains of both the beast and Gaston."

The crowd broke out into a large uproar, shouting passionately both to each other and to the prince. Many of the men looked at the prince with anger, while the women seemed panicked and grief-stricken over Gaston's demise. The prince felt substantially out of his depth, and was at a loss for how to subdue the crowd. Belle sighed. She had been afraid that this would be the reaction to her and Adam. Since when had she ever understood how to talk to the townspeople?

"Uhhh . . .to honor your town's bravery in fighting the beast I would like to sponsor a celebration at the castle. Then you can see for yourself that the castle is free from the beast, the enchanted objects, or any other threat. I'll provide plenty of food and music." The prince said, wondering what else he could say to win their favor.

"And ale," Cogsworth muttered under his breath.

"Huh? Oh," the prince mumbled, then added in a louder voice, "And ale of course."

The mood of the crowd appeared to soften from anger to mild suspicion, and the din of the voices quieted to a murmur. The women weren't sure of this prince and couldn't understand why he would choose such a strange girl as Belle for his bride, but the prospect of getting dressed up and going to a castle was very appealing. For the men, they weren't entirely confident they wouldn't be walking into a trap, but then neither were they ones to turn down free food and beer.

The villagers continued to eye the prince and Belle with confusion and distrust. This was a small sleepy town not accustomed to all of the excitement it had experienced in the last few weeks. The discovery of a monster living in a nearby castle, the death of their town hero, the arrival of a wealthy young prince. . . .it was almost too much for them to sort out, let alone understand.

"I'll begin the preparations and set the festivities for a fortnight from Friday," the prince said, feeling as though he had to speak to break the odd emotional checkmate between himself and the crowd. The crowd began to murmur in a way that seemed, if not accepting, than at least not angry.

"Thank you for receiving us into your lovely town," the prince said, wanting this business to be over as quickly as possible, and walking with Belle towards the carriage, "I'll send coaches to transport you to the festivities. In the meantime, please accept my sincerest apologies for all the trouble the beast caused you."

Maurice climbed back into the carriage and the prince helped Belle into it. Shutting the door behind her, he turned back to the crowd who was still staring at him with a mixture of expressions, none of which contained admiration, save perhaps for the Bimbettes. He cleared his throat adjusted his jacket, and looked around the marketplace.

"Well this'll be interesting," Belle whispered to Maurice from inside the carriage, "I'll bet he's never had a sip of ale in his life."

"It'll get them on his side though," Maurice commented, "The tavern is the most popular spot in town. A prince that throws celebrations with plenty of free ale? He'll be the most popular prince in France."

"Good day! I'm afraid I must be off!" the prince called out. Belle felt the carriage begin to roll away. She looked out the window on her poor provincial town as the carriage drew away. She still saw Monsieur D'Arque watching her prince, eyes narrowed, suspicious. She sighed and sat back against her seat.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Maurice asked. Belle smiled and patted his hand, trying to quiet the knot of worry in her stomach.

As the prince walked back to his steed silently cursing Cogsworth for choosing the largest horse in the stable and as he contemplated how exactly he was going to vault himself back onto it, one of the townspeople stopped him.

"Your majesty?" he asked.

"Yes?" the prince responded.

"I know she," the townsman said, glancing pointedly at the carriage that was driving away with Belle, "Is very beautiful, but surely a good looking fella like yourself has plenty of options, especially what with being a prince and all. She's . . .well. . .she's—odd. She turned down Gaston's marriage proposal and then ran off to live with that beast in his, well, I guess, _your_ castle. We think she even developed . . ._feelings_ for it."

The prince stared at the man, his head tilted slightly to the side, feeling a conflux of numerous emotions. Part of him was astonished that anyone would have anything bad to say about Belle, his angel, a woman so pure of heart that she managed to love him even in his beastly form. Another part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdness of the entire situation. The final part, and though he hated to admit it, the largest part, wanted to lift this man off the ground and throw him into the nearby stands of the market for talking ill of his future wife.

"I have never," the prince began, straightening the sleeves of his jacket, his jaw setting, "Loved anyone the way that I love the woman to whom you refer. She will be my wife and she will be your princess. And we will treat her with her with the respect and dignity she deserves. Won't we?"

Though the prince was no longer a beast, he had been a beast for long enough that even though he spoke with restraint in a soft human voice there was an ominous hint of something much more threatening beneath his words.

"Of course, your majesty," the man responded, bowing his head.

"Very well then," the prince responded, he added in a louder voice, "Good day to you all."

He pulled himself up onto his horse and smiled at the fact that he did not topple off. Noticing the villagers were all still watching him, he waved before flicking the reins and following the carriage down the road.

They were not returning directly back to the castle. Maurice had asked if they could stop by his old cottage so that he could check on the animals and see which of his inventions he wanted transported back to the castle. The prince had agreed easily, he was curious and excited to see Belle's home before she came to stay at the castle, though Belle seemed less than eager to show him.

The townsman's words about Belle echoed in his mind as he followed the carriage to Belle's home. It had never occurred to him that anyone would hold anything less than the highest opinion of Belle. Belle and the prince had talked enough with each other that he knew she had been frustrated with her life before coming to the castle, but he thought that most of her discontent stemmed from Gaston's pursuit of her and her father's struggles to have his skills at inventing recognized. He began to suspect that she wasn't appreciated in this place, a thought that saddened him. Working to maintain his balance in his saddle as his horse reached a brisk cantor, he wondered how unhappy Belle had been before she had come to the castle.


	7. Chapter 7--Home

Soon a small cottage with a water wheel and a number of livestock animals appeared around a bend in the road. Could this be Belle's home? The carriage ahead of him slowed and stopped in front of it, answering Adam's question for him. He smiled. It was so . . . idyllic and sweet, just like Belle herself. His horse approached and he tightened the reins to stop him. He dismounted, again wobbling a little, then tied his horse to the fence that was on the side of the house.

Belle held her hands out to him and he went up to her and took them.

"Well," Belle said a little sheepishly, looking around herself, "This is it."

She was very nervous to have him here. She was in love, but not blind to the fact that they came from two very different backgrounds. Compared to the castle, her little cottage seemed modest indeed. There would be no doubt in the prince's mind that he was asking a peasant to marry him once he saw her home, which, after the scene in town, made her feel self-conscious.

Beyond this, being home again was strange for her. She had never been particularly happy there and after living at the castle the town and her home looked even more provincial in comparison. They didn't talk much about what Belle's life had been like before she arrived at the castle. Not so much because the prince didn't ask, but because she didn't feel like it was very interesting. She read, cleaned, helped with dinner, went to town, tended to the animals. He was a wealthy prince who had been visited by an enchantress, cursed, and lived in a castle with hundreds of enchanted objects. Certainly it had been hard for him, but he definitely had the more intriguing past.

"It reminds me of Briar Rose," the prince said smiling, "Your house is just like something out of a storybook."

"_Your_ house is just like something out of a storybook," she told him, laughing.

"Can we go inside?" the prince asked excitedly. Belle looked at him. To her bemusement, his enthusiasm appeared to be genuine.

"Papa," Belle called out to her father as he climbed into the basement, "I'm going to give Adam a tour."

"That shouldn't take long," Maurice responded, laughing.

"Do you need any help, sir? Cogsworth asked Maurice, looking down into the basement apprehensively.

"Sure," Maurice responded, "Could you hand me that dog-ragged clencher?"

Belle laughed to herself and looked back at her handsome prince, who was looking over the cottage with a rapt expression.

"Come on," she said, pulling his hand and leading him up the steps. Belle fiddled with the latch on the door and it swung open. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, then stepped across the threshold and into her old home. Everything was exactly as it had been left, save for a little dust. She was relieved. She had been concerned that the villagers would have ransacked the place in their absence.

"This is the living room," Belle said, turning to the prince, "And the dining room too, I suppose."

He smiled at her and walked further into the room, looking all around himself, taking everything in. He ran his hand along the table that was positioned near the fire.

"And where did you used to sit?" he asked. Belle smiled at him and sat down in the seat nearest the stairs.

"Here," she responded. Adam stood behind her and put his arms around her.

"So this is where you used to eat dinner and read and talk to your papa," he said, kissing her on the cheek. Belle laughed.

"Do you really find this so interesting?" she asked, reclining in her seat and tilting her head back to look up into his face.

"I've never found anything more interesting," he responded, looking back at her earnestly.

She stood up and shook her head at him. She took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. Walking in, Adam nearly knocked his head against some hanging pots and pans. He looked up and noted that the ceilings in Belle's home were substantially lower than what he was used to. He took a moment to be silently grateful he hadn't visited while still a beast. He would have had to walk through the house on all fours just to ensure his head didn't crash through the ceiling.

"Oh! Careful!" Belle warned. Adam smiled sheepishly at her, then looked around the kitchen and noticed an apron hanging in the corner.

"Do you cook, Belle?" he asked. He had never pictured her in the kitchen and the idea of it seemed incongruent with how he saw her.

"Well, some of course," Belle answered, "Not as well as the cooks at the castle. But, yes, I had to. We had to eat."

Adam nodded with a thoughtful expression. The idea was so strange to him, Belle making dinner and cleaning up, collecting eggs in her apron and kneading dough with a rolling pin. The fact that she was standing in the kitchen in a full-skirted brocade dress with her hair curled and coiffed made the idea of a domesticated Belle that much more odd to him. In all honesty, he had only ever seen servants engage in those activities. He himself had never so much as washed a dish or prepared a snack in his life.

"And . . .the dishes and laundry? The animals outside? You saw to all of that?" Adam asked. He didn't dislike the fact that Belle was not noble, in fact it was part of what he found intriguing about her. The details of such a lifestyle were just completely foreign to him. He was becoming increasingly aware that he was more than a little out of touch.

Belle laughed and rolled her eyes. She stepped up to Adam and put a hand on his cheek.

"We didn't have servants," she reminded him lovingly, but with some reproach in her voice, "Papa did what he could but he's getting older. So, yes, a lot of the household responsibilities fell to me."

She took his hand again and led him out of the kitchen and through the living room to the stairs. The prince looked around himself, utterly absorbed by everything around him. He had never been in a peasant's home before. It amazed him how well they put such a small space to use. The fact that his beautiful Belle had lived here made it all the more fascinating. The stairs creaked as they walked up them and Belle led him up to a narrow hallway. She opened a door.

"My father's room," she said. The prince looked inside. There was a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and not much else. The room had a masculine simplicity that made it seem well-suited to a humble man like Maurice. The only distinctive item was a colorful quilt folded on a chair near the bed.

"Did you sew the quilt?" the prince asked. Belle's face fell as her gaze settled upon the quilt.

"No. That was . . .my mother made it for my father," Belle said, her melodic voice containing a note of melancholy the prince had only heard one other time, the night she confessed that she missed her father and he let her go. He wanted to ask her more about her mother but couldn't bear the idea of making her think about something that clearly made her sad.

"We should add that to the items we're taking back to the castle." Belle said, shaking her head a little as though to rid herself of her moment of grief. She glanced at the prince and pulled the door shut. She took his hand again and led him further down the hall, opening another door.

"The spare room," she commented. It was small, with a bed and a table, and several very odd looking objects lying on the floor.

"More of your father's inventions?" the prince asked.

Belle smiled as she surveyed the contents of the room.

"Works in progress," she answered, shutting the door.

"And what is that room?" the prince asked, smiling and pointing to the last door in the hall.

"Oh _that_ room?" Belle asked.

"Yes," the prince responded, walking quickly towards it. As he reached out to the handle Belle ducked under his arm and threw herself in the doorway.

"That room is forbidden," she told him, with a sly smile.

"Ahhh, so it's forbidden," the prince said, raising an eyebrow at Belle, "Now I _must_ see it."

Belle laughed and opened the door. The prince walked in slowly. Belle's room was small, but larger than the other two rooms. She had a bed that was neatly made, a bookshelf full of books, a vanity table, and a small wardrobe. Like all the other furniture in the house, everything in the room was made of wood. A large window let in the sunshine from the late spring day and afforded a view of the trees and the river. Beneath the window was a window seat with a book left open and face down among the cushions. He walked slowly to the vanity and lightly touched the items on it, a hair brush, some spare spools of thread, a few hair ribbons. Adam felt deeply moved by the sight of Belle's bedroom, which still smelled like her, a sweet and distinctive mix of parchment and flowers. He looked around the room. So this had been her life before she had come to the castle.

Belle watched Adam, his human hands touching her old things. Something about being in her old room with him stretched her heartstrings to the point of aching. He noticed her looking at him with a slightly awed expression and smiled at her, a little embarrassed. He turned towards her and the sunlight from the window behind Belle fell on him, making the gold thread in his uniform gleam, the red in his auburn hair shine, and his blue eyes even more brilliant. She was reminded of when she had asked him to step into the light and had seen him as a beast for the first time. She was overwhelmed momentarily by the history they shared, the changes they had been through together, and how striking he was standing before her now. She shifted her weight back a little and blinked at him. He tilted his head to the side slightly and gave her a questioning look.

"You'll have to forgive me," Belle explained, "I'm not accustomed to handsome princes standing in the middle of my bedroom."

There was that word again—handsome. He liked when she said it and yet it was still so odd to hear. Then there was the other word she had used—prince. On the inside he was largely the same as he had been those last few weeks as a beast, unsure of himself, trying hard to be better, madly in love with Belle. To suddenly have everyone regard him completely differently with an entirely new set of expectations took more getting used to than his transformed body.

"I think perhaps I know how you feel," the prince responded, "I once wasn't accustomed to a beautiful young woman sitting across the table from me at breakfast."

Belle walked towards him and tenderly smoothed a stray hair from his brow. She looked into his face for a beat longer, then said, "Well, you've done a wonderful job adjusting. Your table manners are impeccable now."

Adam laughed and pulled her into an embrace. He held her for a moment, then thought of something and pulled away to look at her.

"Belle," he began, "Just now, in town, why did you lie for me? I thought _I_ was going to tell them about the night Gaston was killed."

"We had to come here because of me," Belle responded, "I told you before—it's my fault the villagers ever even found out about you. I'm the reason the castle is in danger. I know you don't like lying, and I could see you were nervous. It's the least I could do."

"And I told you to stop blaming yourself for all of that," the prince said, "You've saved me and everyone else in the castle."

Belle looked down, still feeling guilty. He pulled her back into an embrace and they both looked out the window together, their minds deluged in memories of that night. As he looked out over the trees he was surprise to see that he could make out the silhouette of his castle in the distance.

He leaned down a little and said softly into her ear, "I can see our home from here."

She looked up at him and back out the window. She pulled away to walk closer to it, resting her fingers lightly on the glass. The prince stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"There it is," Belle commented softly, "I used to look at it and wonder who lived there. I spent so much time at this window, reading my books and looking out at the horizon, wishing I could be anywhere but here."

The prince creased his eyebrows and remembered what the townsman had told him. He walked around her and sat down on the window seat.

"Belle," he said, taking her hands in his, "Were you unhappy here?"

She looked down at him. His blue eyes searched her face, concerned.

"I was lonely," she answered, "I . . .didn't really fit in here."

Adam considered this quietly for a moment.

"And. . .do you feel like you fit in at the castle?" he asked.

"Well, I feel like I fit in with you," Belle responded, sitting beside him on the window seat, "I wonder if I'll fit in as a . . .princess. You heard the townspeople—I'm not noble."

"Belle," Adam said, "I've never met anyone as noble as you."

"No, Adam—you know what I mean," Belle replied, looking away.

"No, I don't," Adam protested. Belle continued looking away from him and he added softly, "But if it would make you more comfortable with the idea of marrying me then I can give the castle and the title up and we can make a life here together or anywhere else you'd like."

Belle turned and looked at him. His eyes told her he was completely serious.

"Give up your home? The servants who helped raise you? All your comforts and beautiful things? To . . .shoot game for dinner, chop wood, and sell eggs at the market? Adam, you're a prince." Belle said.

"I'd much rather be your husband," Adam told her. Belle stared at him much like she stared at him just after he had transformed. She looked at him as though she couldn't quite believe her eyes. A full silence bloomed between them for a moment.

"Why did you let me go that night? The last night you were still a beast?" Belle asked suddenly, "You must have known you were almost out of time."

"I had to," he answered simply.

She stared at him for another moment and then threw herself into his arms and embraced him.

"I don't want you to give anything up for me," she whispered into his ear, "I love you."

"I love you," the prince responded, "I want you to be happy."

Belle pulled away from him and looked into his eyes.

"Lumiere, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Madame de la Grande Bouche . . .they're all so dear to me, they're like family to me now. They must feel like family to you too," Belle tilted her head, just realizing something, "That's why you're doing all this isn't it? Coming to town, contacting your father, riding horses and wearing swords?"

"I have to . . . be better," the prince muttered. Belle looked for another moment into his eyes. The comfort Mrs. Potts had given her that morning when she fretted about marriage and the duties of royal life echoed through her thoughts.

"You're still the sweet beast I fell in love with," she whispered, touching his face. For once the prince felt no sense of embarrassment or shame at the thought of his former self. The way she was looking at him silenced those feelings and told him she loved him, now, then, always. He felt a sense of relief that she recognized who he truly was and accepted him.

"I'm still me," he responded.

"Ask me again," Belle said suddenly. Adam gave her a questioning look, and she added "Please. Ask me again to marry you."

He looked at her for another moment and then slowly slid off of the window seat and down onto one knee. Continuing to hold her hands in his, he looked up at her.

"Belle," he said, "I never knew it was possible to love someone this much. Your courage and loveliness are so strong you saved your father, tamed a beast, and broke a powerful spell."

He paused, and looked her over. He wanted to remember everything about her in this moment, wanted the exact shade of the blue of her dress, her expression, the red and blue baby roses in her hair to crystallize and remain perfectly preserved in his memory forever. He had absolutely meant it when he offered to leave the castle and his noble title behind. He wanted to marry this woman more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, more than he had even wanted the spell to break. As a boy he had scoffed at the stories and songs of true love and ridiculed them for their sentimentality. He had known at a very young age that he would be married off to some woman of high birth to cement one alliance or another. It had made the terms of the curse seem that much more cruel to him. True love was a fairy tale, and if handsome princes couldn't have it what hope did a hideous beast have? But here he was, human again, very much in love, down on one knee about to a propose to a beautiful young woman, his heart pounding, thrilled at the idea of being her husband, terrified that she might say no.

"Would you do me the honor of marrying me?" Adam asked.

Belle looked into the handsome face of her beast. She couldn't tell when it happened, or how, but somewhere along the way in her strange journey at the castle, she had fallen deeply in love with Adam. While she still longed for freedom and adventure, she knew her heart belonged with him. She had spent most of her life not fitting in, but felt at home at Adam's side. She realized she had been nervous to show him her old home because she had been worried he wouldn't be able to accept this part of her, that he would realize she was just a simple village girl and perhaps love her less for it. The way he was looking at her stilled those fears. They knew each other. They accepted each other. They were safe with each other. Looking into his eyes and feeling her heart flutter, she entertained the possibility that with Adam she could have both comfort and excitement.

"Yes," Belle said, her face breaking into a radiant smile, "Yes, Adam. I will marry you."

Adam leapt to his feet and lifted her off the window seat and up into the air, twirling her around the room. He set her down and immediately pulled her into a passionate kiss. Belle's arms encircled his neck, while his hands went around her back and pulled her tightly into him. Somehow the prince managed to shed all of his clumsiness and uncertainty each time he kissed Belle, perhaps because it came so naturally to the both of them.

"Belle? Are you still here?" Maurice's voice floated up the stairs.

Belle pulled away, putting her hand over her lips and looking a little embarrassed.

"I forgot about Papa and Cogsworth," she confessed guiltily.

"So did I," the prince admitted. Belle shook her head.

"We have to stop doing that," she told the prince, "Acting like we're the only two people in the world."

"Isn't that why we came to town?" Adam asked.

"We should tell them we're engaged!" she exclaimed suddenly, her face breaking back into a smile, grabbing his hand and running with him through the hall and down the steps.

"Papa!" she called, "Papa, we have news!"

"There you are," Maurice said, laughing, "What news is this?"

"I said yes!" Belle said.

"Wait—what? Do you mean to-?" Maurice asked, looking from Belle to the prince and back at Belle.

"Yes!" Belle answered, pulling her father into a hug. Maurice hugged his daughter back, baffled but happy to see her so joyful.

"Belle, are you telling me you said yes to the prince's proposal?" Maurice asked.

"Yes!" Belle said yet again, laughing.

"When?" Maurice asked.

"Just now! He asked me again and I said yes!" Belle said, who seemed to suddenly to relish the word yes.

"Would you fancy that," Maurice said, holding Belle's arms and looking at her with tears in his eyes, "My daughter is getting married! My little girl . . ."

"Sir," Adam said, "I want you to know that I love your daughter very much and will do everything I can for her."

Maurice let go of Belle's arms and turned towards his future son-in-law. Maurice was the kind of person who believed the best in people. He was a soft-hearted man who knew that people could change, believed in redemption, and practiced forgiveness. The love the prince had in his eyes each time he looked at Belle was not lost on Maurice, who knew he was getting older and had been wanting for some time for Belle to find someone who could care for her. His happiness at the news was genuine, and he pulled the prince into a hug.

Adam was surprised but happy. He felt uncomfortable around Belle's father, never quite sure how to handle the tremendous guilt that burdened him for imprisoning the kind old man and then taking his daughter from him.

As Adam and Maurice pulled out of the hug, Maurice looked up at him and considered him as Belle's future husband. Despite his past transgressions, Adam stood before Maurice as a changed man in every sense of the word.

"Never thought I'd have a prince for a son-in-law," Maurice told Adam, shaking his head and looking back at Belle, who was still beaming.

"I'd prefer if you thought of me only as your son-in-law and not a prince," Adam told him warmly.

"What is going on in here?" Cogsworth asked, stepping through the doorway to survey the scene with a confused but not unhappy expression.

Belle ran to him and threw her arms around him, resulting in his confused expression turning into surprise.

"I'm going to marry Adam!" she told him, "He just asked me again and I said yes!"

Cogsworth patted Belle's arm fondly, happy but feeling it would be inappropriate to hug her back.

Smiling, he asked, "You and the master are engaged?"

"Yes!" Belle cried, as Maurice and Adam laughed at how many times she had said that word in the last few moments, "I'm going to live with you all at the castle forever! We'll be like family . . . oh, I know we're like family already but we'll be even more so!"

Cogsworth smiled at Belle, touched that she saw the servants of the castle as her family. He looked to the prince, who strode over to Cogsworth and also pulled him into a hug.

"It's happening," he told Cogsworth, overjoyed, "We're getting married!"

"I'm so very pleased for both of you," Cogsworth said sincerely, looking between them both and quickly brushing away a tear while hoping that no one noticed. Turning to the prince and remembering him yet again as a child, Cogsworth added, "You will make a splendid prince and a fine husband, Master Adam."

Adam hadn't heard Cogsworth call him Master Adam since he had been a boy. After he turned into a beast he didn't want anyone to use his name, and so had only been called master by the servants of the castle. He remembered now that the servants had called him Master Adam as a term of endearment when he had still been a child, using the term when he was sick or had a bad dream or was missing his mother.

"Thank you," Adam told Cogsworth, his voice shaking slightly. Cogsworth met his gaze and simply nodded, feeling more tears coming to his eyes but not bothering to brush them away this time.

"We should return to the castle," Cogsworth said, clearing his throat, "The roads are much easier to navigate when it's still light out."

Belle slipped her arm through the prince's elbow and smiled up at him. Cogsworth left the room to untie the horses and Maurice followed. Belle and Adam looked at each other and stepped out of her old home and into the late afternoon officially engaged and thinking of their lives together as husband and wife.


	8. Chapter 8--Mothers and Memories

**As always, thank you everyone for your reviews. This is my first ever fan-fiction, so I'm very new to this! I'm having a blast playing around in this world and writing these chapters :).**

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That evening Belle reclined on a settee in her library, a journal propped up against her bent knees, writing about the day's events, occasionally leaning down awkwardly to replenish her quill with ink from the inkwell resting beside her on the floor. The rush of excitement and emotion that had coursed through her all day now flowed neatly, a river of black ink, over the pages of her journal. It was her nature to carefully study everything, even phenomena as inscrutable as magic and love, so that though her emotions poured powerfully from her quill her desire to understand and analyze these feelings ran equally as strong. She was so focused on capturing her exact thoughts and feelings regarding Adam's visit to her cottage and her acceptance of his proposal that she was quite startled when there was a knock on the library doors.

"Come in," she called, pressing her journal closed quickly, hoping the ink wouldn't smudge. The door creaked as it opened, and Adam leaned in.

"May I enter?" he asked.

"Of course," Belle responded.

Adam strode into the library and, unless Belle was very much mistaken, his gait was becoming more assured. He seated himself next to her, positioned quite straight-backed with excellent posture, and adjusted the cuffs peeking out from under his wine colored jacket. She felt a poignant pinch in her heart. Her happiness that he was finally feeling more at home in his true form snagged on the memories she had of him as her beast, and these two feelings seemed both beautiful yet incompatible, like silk catching on the thorns of a rose bush. She repositioned herself on the settee so that she could place her arm around him and rest her head on his shoulder.

"It's late," the prince commented, kissing her on the top of her head, "Aren't you tired?"

"Yes," Belle admitted, "But I wanted to sit with you a while before going to bed."

The prince put his arm around her and rested his cheek lightly against the top of her head, taking in the scent of her hair. Belle closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his breathing. She felt a sweet vulnerability being in his arms, gently reassured by his strength and the steadiness of his heartbeat.

"It sounds different than before," she commented sleepily.

"What does mon ange?" the prince asked in a soft voice.

"Your heartbeat," she answered. Sighing contentedly she opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look up at him, "It was much louder and deeper when you were a beast."

"When did you hear my heartbeat when I was a beast?" the prince asked.

"When we were dancing and I rested my head on your chest," Belle answered. Belle reached up and touched the smoothness of Adam's face tenderly. The prince smiled both at the memory and at his lovely fiancée sitting before him. She had clearly been waiting up for him, her eyes and voice were softened by sleepiness and candlelight. Always protective of her and concerned with her comfort, he had the urge to scoop her up, carry her to her room, and tuck her into bed.

"Have you been writing?" Adam asked, noticing the journal Belle clutched in her lap.

"Yes," Belle said, "Have you?"

"Yes," Adam responded with a sigh, "Though I can only guess at what the response will be, or if there will even be one."

"Surely he'll at least answer you," Belle said.

"He left me here when I was a scared little boy, Belle," Adam said, a trace of bitterness detectable in the normally smooth contours of his voice, "I have no reason to hope that he will suddenly take an interest in me now."

Belle sat up straighter and looked into his eyes. The thought of Adam alone and scared as a little boy in the massive castle awakened her nurturing side, and she felt a flash of anger towards his selfish father. She knew what it was like to feel lonely, but at least she had always had the steadiness of her papa.

"What is he like?" she asked, wondering what kind of a man could abandon his child.

"I don't know, really. It's been so long. He changed a great deal after my mother died," the prince responded slowly, "When I was very young he was often gone, as most royal parents are, but when he was home he played with me, took me for rides on his shoulders, brought me presents from far away. But after . . . he became so cold and distant. I rarely saw him, and it wasn't long before he sent me here. Mrs. Potts once told me he was heartbroken and I reminded him too much of my mother, but how am I to know, really? He never gave me a reason."

"And your mother? What was she like?" Belle asked gently, afraid of upsetting him, but wanting very much to better understand her future husband.

Adam hadn't spoken about his mother in a long time, and judging by the sharpness that shot through him suddenly, her death was something that still caused him a great deal of pain. Had anyone else asked him about his mother his grief would have flared instantly into anger towards the asker, even now in his princely and substantially subdued form. Since, however, it was Belle asking, he had no choice but to take a slow breath and brace himself for the vortex of emotion and memory that swirled within him and answer her.

"She was . . .sweet, playful, loving. Everything a good mother should be. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and I remember thinking she looked like an angel. She liked to play hide-n-go-seek with me and chase me around the gardens. We would have contests to see who could go higher on the swings. She played piano and the harp beautifully, and would play for me sometimes when I asked. She was very kind, and was known for her fairness and generosity. She loved books, animals, and roses. Everyone loved her." The prince said, speaking slowly, tugging at the threads of his memories of her gently, feeling that the few remnants he had left of her were tenuous and had to be handled delicately.

"I wish I could have met her," Belle commented quietly.

"So do I," the prince said, "You would have liked each other. You are a bit alike, I think."

"What happened to her?" Belle asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Adam visibly winced, and Belle was immediately sorry that she had asked, frustrated at her insatiable curiosity that at times, such as when she had snuck off to the West Wing all those months ago, transgressed appropriateness.

"She was killed in a carriage accident. It was raining, something spooked the horses, and the driver lost control of the carriage. The horses came loose and the carriage overturned and rolled off the edge of a ravine." The prince answered. He thought for a moment, then added, "When you first came to the castle and I saw you crying because you didn't get to say goodbye to your father . . . it made me remember that I had felt the same thing when I had found out my mother had died. I didn't get to say goodbye. One day she was laughing and playing her harp, the next she was gone. I felt for you. It had been so long since I had felt anything for anyone, it astonished me."

"Oh, Adam," Belle whispered, pulling him close to her. He relaxed into her embrace and allowed himself to be comforted by her presence.

"Tell me about your mother," the prince said after a few moments. Belle pulled away from him and considered her memories of her mother for a moment.

"She was wonderful," Belle said with a soft smile, "She taught me how to read and write, how to sing and dance, how to tend to the animals and cook dinner. She was an artist. I used to watch her at her canvas for hours, mixing colors and making paintings. I remember missing her pictures when, later, she would sell them at the market. She was out-spoken, but also gentle and patient. She died of a fever when I was seven and I still miss her very much."

"Were your parents in love?" the prince asked.

"Yes," Belle said, smiling at the memories she had of a warm, cozy home with both of her parents, "Very much so. Yours?"

"Yes," the prince said, remembering the days when he had been a very young child and how his father's face had lit up each time his mother entered a room, how his parents had laughed and whispered to each other, held hands and sneaked kisses when they thought no one was watching, "Which is something very rare and special in royal circles."

Belle sat up a little on her knees and kissed him gently on the mouth, then rested her forehead against his. He held her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs lightly against her skin. They sat that way for a few moments, letting the heaviness of the emotions they had just exchanged settle around them, feeling the warmth of one another's understanding wrap around them and draw them closer as though they were sharing a cloak.

"Come, mon ange," the prince said finally, "Please allow me to escort you to your chambers. We should both get some rest. After all, we have a large party to plan for our villagers."


	9. Chapter 9--La Fête

Belle and Adam were, by nature, quite an introverted couple. They would have both found themselves very content to spend their days reading books to each other and going for long walks, traveling from time to time, enjoying one another's company and that of their loyal servants. Adam had never had a particularly extroverted personality even before he spent ten years within the confines of his castle as a beast. In fact, his lack of hospitality was what had landed him with the curse in the first place. As for Belle, she had always felt that she understood her books much better than the people around her, though that was changing at the castle.

It was there for somewhat anxiety producing for both of them to stage this celebration for the villagers. Their discomfort was hardly mitigated by the knowledge that, while the villagers hadn't openly stoned them in the town square, they were also still clearly extremely wary of both Belle and the prince. They both understood that it was critical the party go well and that they manage to endear themselves to the villagers, else they would have to live in perpetual fear of a second storming of the castle. Navigating the social expectations of the celebration would be both Belle and the prince's first introduction into practicing diplomacy, and the prince found himself yet again cursing himself for his inattentiveness during his lessons as a boy.

Belle and the prince stood in the ballroom overseeing the preparations for the ball. The servants bustled about, bickering with one another and fussing over every detail, also aware of the importance of the evening and of the prince and Belle making a good impression on the villagers.

Belle looked around herself and couldn't help but catch her breath at how stunning the ballroom was. The castle was magnificent without any further embellishments, but the servants had so outdone themselves in the decorations that the castle was, for lack of a better term, utterly enchanting. It was so resplendent as to seem ethereal, as though the flawlessly rendered statues of angels and saints that graced the walls of the prince's castle had assisted in the decorating. Above them were festoons of white and purple silk, fastened in place with decorations of gold and crystal that caught the sunlight and reflected rainbows on the sparkling marble of the floor and walls. Roses, arranged in garlands and bouquets along the walls, lent their beauty to the ballroom in bursts of color and fragrance. The great hall had been outfitted similarly, and in the gardens lanterns had been fixed to the trees, rose bushes, and along the walking paths, ready to light up the evening like hundreds of fireflies once the sun set.

"The menu, master," Lumiere said, approaching Belle and the prince with a bow, extending a large piece of parchment that contained the numerous dining options in impeccable curling script. The prince took it and held it between himself and Belle, and they both looked it over. He glanced at her questioningly.

"It looks wonderful," Belle said, "Just please be sure to prepare the venison more well-done than Adam typically takes it."

"Of course, mademoiselle," Lumiere responded with a smile, taking the menu and bowing again before hurrying back to the kitchens, no doubt to oversee that each julienned carrot and steamed potato was prepared and presented flawlessly.

Belle looked to her prince, who raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a crooked smile.

"You're lucky I eat my meat cooked at all," he whispered into her ear.

Belle laughed and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. Truthfully, she loved when the little traces of the years he had spent as the beast surfaced from time to time. She enjoyed that her handsome prince, now so soft-spoken and well-dressed, was still not completely tamed. As she observed the servants carrying in long tables for the feast, she entertained the fact that in a few hours the castle would welcome the same villagers who had so soundly rejected her most of her life. She frowned slightly.

"Do you think we're odd?" she asked the prince.

"Yes, without question," Adam responded with no hesitation, laughing.

"You do?" Belle asked, frowning further.

"Of course," he answered nonchalantly, his eyes sparkling as he kissed her forehead, "You are a beautiful young woman who could have had her pick of any eligible man, but you instead fell in love with someone who was covered in fur and walked on all fours. You can hardly expect us to be a normal couple."

"And—you don't mind that we aren't like everyone else, or anyone else for that matter?" Belle said, looking up at him with her lovely doe-shaped eyes, her full lips arranged into a pout.

Adam, after all, was a prince, and as such had been raised with the conviction that he was unusual since birth. As a prince he had also been inculcated with the belief that being different from everyone else meant that he was special, and that this was a very good way to be. Now that he was restored to his princely form, he didn't share Belle's aversion to being thought of as odd, so long as he was left to conduct his affairs in peace.

"Why should I? It doesn't bother me if we are strange if we are happy," the prince answered, "You are happy aren't you?"

"Yes," Belle replied, smiling.

"Then let others have their ordinariness. Being like everyone else is so common, and you, mon cherie, are a princess," the prince told her, running his hand gently through her hair. He hated how uncomfortable the villagers made Belle feel. In _his_ mind they were simply too dense to appreciate how exceptional she was, and so it was for the best that Belle was going to leave them all behind and become a princess.

Madame de le Grande Bouche approached, clothed in a deep forest green silk dress, the bodice hugging her ample curves, her skirts trailing the floor so that when she walked her movements had the sound of leaves rustling.

"Please forgive the interruption," she said, "But I'm afraid we must spirit you away to begin dressing you for the ball."

"Already?" Belle asked, "But it won't begin for a few hours."

"But we have so much to do! Your gown needs fitted, your hair needs curled, your cheeks need rouged!" Madame de le Grande Bouche exclaimed.

"Very well," Belle responded, sighing. Looking to her prince, she said, "I hope you'll excuse me."

"I look forward to seeing you this evening," the prince told her, kissing her hand. She smiled at him, then allowed herself to be lead away by Madame de le Grande Bouche, who talked excitedly about Belle's gown for the evening and how they would style her hair. The prince watched her leave, fervently hoping that, for everyone's sake, the evening would be a success.

* * *

The villagers were still flummoxed by the prince's visit to town and his invitation to the castle. They had accepted the prince's invitation more out of curiosity and confusion than out of a genuine desire to put the nasty business of storming the castle behind them. It was with a substantial amount of wariness that they prepared for the ball, and gossip had flooded the town square in the weeks since the prince had made his visit about where he came from, what he wanted with Belle, and what had really happened the night Gaston died. While the women got ready for the evening, trying on wigs, embellishing their gowns, and powdering their faces, the men met in the tavern to discuss their thoughts about the party.

"It's very strange," commented the blacksmith, "That this prince suddenly appears out of nowhere and kills the beast."

"Not as strange," said the tanner, "As there being a monstrous beast in a castle in the first place. How did it get there? What was it doing there?"

"Better yet," added the baker, "What was Belle doing there? First she takes up with the beast and now this prince? What is it she's after?"

"As if you have to ask," grunted a burly fellow from the end of the bar, rolling his eyes and waving a gold coin, "She always did put on airs, thinking herself too good for the likes of any of us."

"So then we're agreed that there is a very good chance we could be walking into a trap?" Monsieur D'Arque asked, his oily voice oozing false camaraderie with the townsmen.

The townsmen all nodded and murmured in agreement. Monsieur D'Arque surveyed them with his cold eyes and considered their plan. It wasn't some misguided kinship he felt with Gaston that kept him suspicious of Belle and the prince. Rather, it was his ability for detecting deception and his desire to control people and situations that kept him on alert. He was a schemer himself, the reasons most of the 'lunatics' in his care were even in his asylum were dubious at best. There was something slippery about the entire situation involving the castle, something he couldn't quite get his fingers on. He was determined to root out what it was and, what is more, punish Belle and this prince for attempting to dupe them all in the first place.

"Are you sure the men we've recruited from the other villages will be able to stay concealed in the woods undetected? What if one of the coaches the prince is going to send for us sees them?" asked the carpenter.

"I assure you they will stay quite concealed, that is, unless someone sends the signal for them to attack," Monsieur D'Arque reassured the men.

"I still don't know that any of this is necessary," said the owner of the bookshop, a wiry old man who had always had fondness for Belle and could never understand the townspeople's derision of her.

"For all we know that prince has the beast tied up in his castle somewhere and is just waiting for the right moment to let him loose on all of us," the blacksmith retorted, to a chorus of agreement from the other men.

"I don't believe Belle would deliberately lead us all into such a trap," the bookshop owner replied, shaking his head and removing his glasses to clean them on his sleeve.

"She's obviously been bought off," the tanner responded.

"Gentlemen," Monsieur D'Arque interrupted, "The plan is fool proof. If there is, indeed, no beast in the castle and no trap at the party then the men we have waiting in the woods will have no reason to attack and we can enjoy the good favor of our young prince. If, however, there is any sign of an impending attack, then we send the signal and join with our brethren to fight off our captors."

"Then it's settled," the blacksmith said, finishing off his beer and raising his empty stein to the other men, "We go through with the plan. Now-let's get ready for this ball."

* * *

Despite the palpable anxiety in the castle, the preparations for the guests were laid flawlessly. The castle looked exquisite, the prince looked charming, and Belle, cascading down the wide steps of the ballroom in a shimmering rose colored ball gown just before the guests arrived, was stunning. The coaches went to the village to pick up the villagers, who dressed in their best attire, climbed in and attempted to have their suspicions trump their excitement.

Few of the townspeople, however, could suppress their 'oohhs' and 'aahhhs' as the coaches arrived at the castle and servants came to open the doors of the carriages and, with gorgeous manners, help the ladies out. The enormous double doors of the castle were flung wide open to reveal tantalizing glimpses of the castle's grand interior, the silk ribbons and flowers garnishing the entrance fluttered softly like a woman's skirt in the breeze, and the castle shone like ivory in the late spring sunshine. Slightly dazed by the spectacle of the castle, the townspeople filed into the great hall, wide-eyed and with their necks craning to take in the splendor all around them.

The prince and Belle greeted them warmly, thanked them for coming, and welcomed them into the castle. Dressed in fine attire for the celebration that evening, the prince and Belle were a dazzling couple, and even as the townspeople distrusted them they could scarcely take their eyes off of them. Lumiere and Cogsworth then took the townspeople for an extensive tour of the castle with the prince and Belle following behind the large group, smiling and answering questions as required. At first the townspeople entered each room with trepidation, eyes narrowed, but as the tour went on the group seemed to relax, and they openly admired the sumptuous architecture and artwork. It was difficult, for many of the women particularly, not to be charmed by the obvious affection the prince and Belle felt for one another. Their eyes glowed and their cheeks flushed each time they brushed against each other, and they seemed to be able to keep their eyes of one another only with great difficulty.

After the tour, during which, of course, no traces of the beast or the enchanted objects could be found, the villagers were lead to the ballroom, where the feast was served, the drinks were poured, and the music played in chorus with the sunset. The food was beautifully presented and delicious with endless courses of elaborate dishes parading across the plates of the villager. Belle was reminded of when she first came to the castle and Lumiere had presented her with his 'culinary cabaret'. She smiled to herself as she watched him chit-chatting and charming the guests, flirting with the women, joking with the men. He certainly had a gift for making people feel welcome at the castle.

Once during the evening when he approached her to see if there was anything she needed, she whispered to him, with a smile, "The grey stuff _is_ delicious."

He laughed and winked at her before hurrying off to continue pampering their guests. Belle looked around herself at the servants who were trying so hard to ensure that the evening was a success and saw that the castle was filled with people who she genuinely liked and cared for. She looked to Adam, who sat across from her at the long head table. He caught her eye and smiled at her in the slightly shy way that he had that never failed to charm Belle. She felt a sense of contentment that she hadn't ever quite felt before and realized that, even in the midst of the villagers who had never accepted her, she felt at home.

Once the villagers had finally had their fill of the food, and they were becoming increasingly friendly and rowdy as the ale and the evening took effect, the servants cleared the tables and the orchestra switched from dinner music to dancing music. The prince asked Belle for her hand and, leading her to the dance floor, loudly encouraged the townspeople to join them in dancing. The townspeople hesitated, but then spilled onto the dance floor, some of the women laughing at the poor coordination and lack of gallantry of the men, many of whom appeared less than skilled at dancing.

Belle looked up at the prince, whose cheeks were flushed. It appeared to take more concentration than usual on his part to lead her across the dance floor.

"How much have you had to drink?" Belle asked, raising an eyebrow at her fiancée. In her effort to charm the villagers and engage them in conversation she had not been keeping too close of an eye on her prince.

"Not too—very much. Only four goblets." The prince answered.

"Have you ever drank before?" Belle asked.

"I've had sips of wine as a boy," the prince answered.

"Over ten years ago?" Belle asked.

"I'm fine," the prince responded, "You are looking . . . so beautiful tonight. You're always beautiful. Maybe I don't tell you enough. I don't want you to think that's all I appreciate about you. But I notice it, of course. I always have. But, of course, true beauty is found within. You have beauty without and within, which is very pleasant, I must say. Why don't you wear your hair down more?"

Belle smiled and rolled her eyes. She resolved to herself to refuse any further wine or ale, in order to keep her wits about her and ensure that the evening continued to go smoothly.

"You are intoxicated," Belle murmured into his ear.

"Is that what is this feeling is?" the prince asked, "It's so strange. I had such difficulty controlling myself when I was . . .before. It's a little like that now, but different. Nicer. I have such an urge to kiss you just now."

"Well, you may not," Belle responded, smiling and nodding politely to the villagers as they danced past, "You may, however, drink water instead of ale for the rest of the evening."

"But I'm having such a good time," the prince responded, "Soirees are a great deal of fun, more fun than I expected. It's been so long since I've been around people like this. As a boy I wasn't allowed to go, but I could watch, sometimes."

As they continued to dance, they noticed Maurice with his arm around Mrs. Potts' waist, leading her across the dance floor. Surprised, the prince and Belle both glanced at each other. They glided past the older couple, but Mrs. Potts and Maurice didn't seem to notice, and Belle could swear she noticed her father blushing in a way she hadn't seen in years, not since her mother died. The prince all but gaped at them as they danced passed, and then looked at Belle with his blue eyes wide.

"Are they—?" he asked, before he realized that he didn't know how to finish his question.

"I . . .don't know," Belle responded, watching them thoughtfully. Maurice leaned in to say something to Mrs. Potts, causing her to giggle.

"Belle," the prince said, suddenly very serious, "What exactly are your father's intentions towards Mrs. Potts?"

"I'm sure my father has only the purest of intentions," Belle replied, continuing to watch Maurice and Mrs. Potts.

"Where did Mrs. Potts learn to dance?" Adam muttered, just before he tripped over his own feet. Belle sighed and drew her attention back to her tipsy prince.

"I think we should take a break," Belle said.

The song ended, and Belle curtsied deeply as the prince bowed, wobbling as he stood back up. Belle frowned at him and led him off the dance floor, walking with such grace as her full skirts swished around her that she appeared to be gliding. Most of the villagers continued dancing, with a few drinking and watching on the outskirts of the dance floor.

"That is quite some library you have here," the owner of the bookshop said, approaching Belle with a kindly expression. Belle smiled warmly at the old man. She was very fond of him, as he was one of the few people who had been kind to her during her time in the village.

"Thank you very much," she replied, "It was a gift."

"My, that is quite a gift," the old man responded, laughing and looking to the prince, "It seems you are taking very good care of our Belle, your majesty."

"I can only hope to show her a fraction of the kindness she has shown me," the prince said with a smile.

"You are welcome to come here and borrow any book you like. In fact, maybe we could start a library in town with some of the books here at the castle," Belle told the man thoughtfully, she glanced at the prince and added, "That would be all right, wouldn't it?"

"It's your library," the prince told her, "Pardon me, mon ange."

The prince bowed slightly, then slipped off to speak with Maurice. Belle watched them talk, a little concerned that her intoxicated fiancée would say something inappropriate to her father regarding his relationship with Mrs. Potts, before turning her attention back to the bookshop owner and describing the variety of the volumes her library contained. She glanced back up to see the prince toasting her father as he laughed, and then taking a deep drink from his goblet, which she was relatively certain did not contain water. She was about to excuse herself when two women ran up to Belle, gushing about her gown and begging her to share her beauty secrets with them. In the interest of improving the castle's relationship with the town, Belle smiled graciously and obliged, sharing the recipe for the olive oil and egg white mask Madame de la Grande Bouche insisted Belle wear the night before special occasions. She continued watching Adam out of the corner of her eye. He was now among a group of male villagers, laughing at the somewhat tasteless limericks the men were singing. Babette sauntered by, gathering empty glasses, and a hush fell over the men as they openly ogled her, causing Adam to laugh even harder.

Belle continued to talk politely with the women, as more had gathered around her, and now they clamored for details on what it was like to be engaged to a handsome prince. Belle expertly walked the line between giving them details to satiate their curiosity, and protecting her and the prince's privacy. The Bimbettes squealed at every mention of romance while the other women seemed more interested in how many dresses Belle owned now and if she slept on satin sheets.

Adam banged a spoon against his goblet and managed to get the boisterous ballroom to settle into a hush.

"My fellow Frenchmen," the prince began, as Belle winced at his visible intoxication, "Thank you so much for gracing my halls with your liveliness and bringing so much merriment to this castle. I hope from this day forward we can be friends, and wish for you all to continue enjoying your evening."

The men cheered loudly and raised freshly filled goblets to the prince. The women laughed and smiled. The music resumed, and the din from chatter, clanging goblets, and swishing skirts increased in volume, filling the castle with sounds of liveliness it hadn't heard in years.

"He is _so_ handsome," the baker's wife sighed.

"And charming," one of the Bimbettes added, looking as though she might swoon at any moment.

"How did you get so lucky?" the blacksmith's wife asked, with a mix of friendliness and envy.

"Well . . ." Belle began, but before she could fashion a believable response the doors to the ballroom burst open.

"What is the meaning of this?!" a voice thundered.

A man who appeared to have just been involved in some sort of fight lurched into the ballroom. The orchestra stopped playing, the guests stopped talking, and the servants stopped serving, the ballroom instantly falling into stunned silence. The man was a commanding figure even with his clothing torn and blood visible on his shoulder and face. He surveyed the inhabitants of the ballroom with rage. He was followed by a woman who was beautiful and who wore a distinctly shaken expression and a dress with an impossibly wide skirt, which was also torn. Behind them, at least 100 guards holding a number of men at sword point quickly filed into the ballroom, their purposeful footsteps echoing off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings. The silence in the ballroom then gave way to gasps and frantic whispering.

Belle turned quickly to the prince, who was standing as though frozen with a curious expression that appeared to register shock, anger, confusion, and recognition, all in relatively equal measure. For several moments no one moved, as the man who had first entered the ballroom glowered at everyone in a thoroughly intimidating manner. Then, moving very slowly, and with his eyebrows knitted, Adam warily stepped up to the man. They looked into one another's eyes, and there was a palpable tension between them that Belle didn't quite understand.

"Father," Adam said, in a way that was both questioning and definitive.

Belle blinked, now even more surprised, and looked quickly at the man. Looking at him more carefully, she saw the resemblance, particularly in the nose and jaw, and in the man's considerable height and broad shoulders. Unlike Adam, his eyes were gray, as was much of his hair, but there was still some red and brown visible. She could tell that in his youth he had been quite handsome and even now he remained so, certainly he looked distinguished, though there was a coldness and arrogance to him that Belle found off-putting.

"Who is responsible for this?!" the man demanded, glaring at the prince.

"For what?" Adam responded, in a tone the clearly registered irritation and disgust.

"We were ambushed!" the man roared, now looking around accusingly at the guests in the ballroom, as the guards tightened their grip on their prisoners and glared menacingly at the assembled guests.

Belle looked at the villagers and observed many guilty expressions on the part of the male townspeople. She looked back to the captured men, who from their dress and comportment, were clearly also from poor villages. She tilted her head to the side and remembered the letter the prince had told her about, the one that Cogsworth had intercepted.

"We thought it was a trap!" one of the men who had been captured cried out.

"You had so many guards with you, we assumed you were planning on attacking the townspeople while they were at the party," another tried to explain.

"Guards," the man said, "Escort these men to the towers."

"No," Adam said quickly. Adam looked angrily at the captured men, then back at his father, then over at the guests, "Explain yourselves. _Now_."

The guests all looked at each other, then at the guards, then down at the floor. Belle noted that Adam could still be very imposing when he wanted to be, his voice contained the commanding tone that only someone who had been giving orders his entire life could fully master. Though the villagers were clearly afraid and none of them wanted to speak, a few of the men begrudgingly stepped forward.

"We were afraid that the ball might be a trap," the blacksmith said, avoiding eye contact with both Adam and his father, "So we had men from the other villages wait in the forest . . .just in case."

"But they weren't supposed to do anything," the baker added, "Unless we gave a signal—which we didn't!"

Belle looked over at the villagers again and noticed Monsieur D'Arque coldly surveying the entire scene from a vantage point in a corner. Their eyes met and he held her gaze, his face emotionless. She narrowed her eyes at him and before slowly drawing her focus back to Adam.

"Then why did they attack?!" Adam yelled, his voiced resounding through the ballroom, visibly startling the guests. Even Belle's eyes widened—she hadn't heard him speak with such intensity since before the transformation.

"We—we saw all the guards and we panicked y-your majesty," one of the captured men stammered.

Adam glared at him for a moment but didn't seem to disbelieve him. He looked back to his father.

"Why do you have so many guards with you?" he asked.

"Because you asked me in your letter to bring them!" his father snapped, his voice also reverberating through the large room.

Adam sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Release them." Adam said.

The guards looked to his father, clearly confused.

"Don't release them!" his father countered, "Bring them to the towers as I commanded."

"Stop!" Adam said, holding his hand out towards the guards, who had begun shifting towards the door. He turned to his father and said, "I believe that this has been a misunderstanding."

"And I believe that anyone who attacks a member of the royal family needs to be made an example of," his father replied coldly, "Guards—to the towers."

"No!" Adam yelled, "These men must be released. I don't—I cannot keep prisoners in this castle."

"And I will not allow these criminals to go unpunished," his father responded coldly.

"This is my castle and I—" Adam began heatedly.

"Your castle?" his father interrupted, "I built this castle! I installed all of these servants here, I ensure your stipend from the king as a prince du sang! It is not your place you speak to me in this way. Not only am I your father, I am brother to the king, and a son of a king, a fils de France. You are a _petit_-fils de France, and a lost one at that. You would do well to remember your rank and your position."

"I should remember my position?" the prince retorted, anger and alcohol flushing his face, "What about _your_ position as my father? How well have you done at remembering that?!"

Adam's father stepped back, his jaw setting.

"You are clearly not in a reasonable state right now. You will excuse yourself to your chambers," his father said, his voice low but threatening.

"I will not—" Adam said, but his father quickly interrupted him.

"You will go to your chambers or I will have the guards escort you there," his father growled.

"You come here after all these years and feel you have any right to give me orders?" Adam said, "You don't even have the right to speak to me! Where were you when I needed you? Where were you when I was under the—"

"Weather," Belle interrupted stepping forward and placing a hand on the prince's forearm, giving him a pointed look that she hoped, even in his inebriated state, he understood. It would be nothing short of disastrous if Adam, his reason eclipsed by his anger and how much he had drank, proclaimed in front of all of the villagers that he had been under a spell. Belle then sank into a deep curtsy in front of the prince's father, holding it for a moment, before rising slowly.

"Your majesty," Belle began, "Please forgive us. Adam struggled with his infirmity for so long and has dearly missed the comfort of your presence. However, this is a matter that can be discussed at a more appropriate time."

Adam's father beheld Belle, taken aback momentarily by her grace and beauty. He blinked as she raised her eyes demurely to his, making certain her expression remained reverent. He looked back to Adam who had also been looking at Belle, but who now met his father's gaze.

"Who is this?" his father asked, his anger giving way to confusion.

"This is Belle," Adam answered, taking her hand, "My fiancée and your future daughter-in-law."

"Your fiancée," his father repeated slowly, looking her over.

"Such a beauty," commented the woman with the large skirts, who had been standing behind the prince's father, quietly watching the scene. She gliding forward and slipped her arm through Adam's father's.

"Who is _this_?" Adam asked.

"My wife and your stepmother," the prince's father responded.

As both couples stood facing each other and regarding one another, an odd sort of tension hung in the air around them. Technically they were all family, or about to be. In reality, they were all strangers to one another and, more than that, they were strangers that so far were not taking much of a liking to each other.

"It would seem," Adam's stepmother said, "That the evening calls for a great deal of understanding."

"Would it?" Adam's father muttered gruffly.

"Mercy is an excellent quality in a prince," she continued, surveying Adam with a smile, "One that I hope runs in the family."

"Very well," Adam's father muttered begrudgingly, "We will release the prisoners—this time. Let it be a warning to everyone here, however, that the next time you attack a prince du sang you won't be answering to me but to the guillotine."

"Adam," Belle said gently, "You are looking tired. Don't you think it would be best to retire to your chambers, so that you are refreshed enough to give our guests a proper welcome tomorrow morning?"

Adam sighed and looked down into the beautiful face of his beloved fiancée. He knew that she was, in effect, telling him to go to bed. Born as both a prince and as someone with a stubborn, difficult temperament, he had never responded well to being told what to do. However, he had to acknowledge that Belle was more reasonable than he even when he hadn't been drinking, and she often knew what was best.

"Very well," he answered, adding more loudly he said, "Cogsworth, ready the coaches for our party guests. Mrs. Potts, please show our royal guests to their bedroom."

As the prince left the ballroom for the West Wing, Belle watched him go. She turned back to her future in-laws, who continued to look her over, and smiled. They smiled back, a little weakly, and Belle wondered if they knew she was a peasant yet. If they didn't then that would be another uncomfortable conversation and potential point of conflict. She then looked to the guests in the ballroom, feeling the weight of the suddenly somber mood, the frivolity having been thoroughly wrung out of the evening. The villagers were once again eyeing her with suspicion, and she feared that winning their favor, particularly after the unpleasant events of the evening, would be the prince's biggest challenge yet.


	10. Chapter 10--The Sober Light of Day

**Hi All! Graduate school has started, which means I will be turning out chapters more slowly . . .but I WILL finish this fic. I'm sure I enjoy reading your reviews more than you enjoy the story, so please leave one if you have a moment :)**

* * *

Belle had already been awake for quite some time when Mrs. Potts knocked on her bedroom door. She had had trouble falling asleep the night before, and had spent much of the morning pacing the floor of her room worrying about Adam and whether his parents would accept her into the royal family. Since she felt that she should at least put her morning to some good use she was already dressed with her hair freshly brushed and pulled back.

"Come in," Belle called to Mrs. Potts. Belle was standing in front of the mirror, sizing herself up. Though she had often been told she was beautiful it had never been something she had given much thought to. It had always seemed so silly to her, the pride which attractive people took in their looks. She had been born the way she had been born, what sense did it make to take pride in something that had been completely out of her control? What was more, why was the one thing everyone seemed to admire about her the thing that she herself had nothing to do with?

She still felt that way, however, she looked at her hazel eyes, her full lips, her slender neck and wondered if these attributes would help her in proving her worth to her future in-laws. She had a feeling that Adam's father would hardly be interested in how many books she had read and doubted that her willingness to sacrifice her own comfort for the well-being of those around her would serve her very well at court. In fact, if the many books she had read about the gossiping, back-biting, and intrigue of the nobility were accurate, she had the sinking suspicion that quite the opposite would be true.

She saw Mrs. Potts' smiling face behind her in the mirror and turned around to face her.

"How are you this morning?" Mrs. Potts asked.

"I'm a little nervous," Belle admitted, smiling a little guiltily.

"Don't let the master's father intimidate you," Mrs. Potts responded, in the surprisingly forceful way she could sometimes have, "You've more right to be here than he does."

"Is Adam all right?" Belle asked, worried about the impact the unexpected arrival of his father would have on her emotional fiancée.

"The master says he has a headache and is refusing to get out of bed," Mrs. Potts said with a sigh.

"I'll go talk with him," Belle replied, shaking her head.

"That's good of you dearie but I'm afraid you'll have to change before you go down to breakfast," Mrs. Potts responded.

"Don't I look all right?" Belle asked, frowning slightly and turning to look at herself in the mirror again.

"You look lovely," Mrs. Potts said, "It's just that having breakfast with His Royal Highness Prince Joseph requires you to look more formal. Madame de le Grande Bouche is on her way to assist you now."

"Hmmm . . . Adam and Joseph," Belle muttered, "Does the royal family have a predilection for biblical names?"

"When the master was born I asked his mother, her royal highness, how she was feeling. She was holding the master and looking down at him with such a look of joy on her face. She smiled at me and said that she was holding a miracle. She told me that she felt like she just gave birth to the first man." Mrs. Potts told Belle, smiling at that distant and innocent time.

"And so she named him Adam," Belle commented, smiling at the thought of her beast, of her tall muscular fiancée, as a little baby being held in his mother's arms, "Was his father also excited?"

"He was. He held such a celebration, so much music, wine, food—I've been in the service of the royal family my whole life and I've never seen such a thing, it went on for days. He loved showing Master Adam off to everyone. The master was a very charming baby, you can imagine, his hair was so light when he was small and those big blue eyes, he looked like a little angel." Mrs. Potts paused, then added gently, "The master's father wasn't always the way he is now."

"What happened?" Belle asked. Mrs. Potts sighed in a way that made Belle think that she had often asked herself the same question. Before she could answer, Madame de le Grande Bouche swept into the room, her arms filled with gowns.

"We MUST go to Paris to buy you more gowns," she said, "Now that you're going to be a princess these old flat things that have been laying around the castle for years just won't due. You need big skirts, layers, better fabric. And jewelry! But never mind that for now, we'll just do our best."

"I best be off," Mrs. Potts said, "Just remember, dear child, not to speak to his royal highness unless he speaks to you first."

"And you must curtsy each time he approaches you," Madame de le Grande Bouche chimed in.

"And you mustn't leave the table until he leaves the table first," Mrs. Potts added.

Belle frowned as Madame de le Grande Bouche held the different gowns up to her slender form, muttering about petticoats and shoes. Three more servants bustled in and began brushing her hair, powdering her face, chatting with Madame de le Grande Bouche about necklaces. All at once, Belle felt like a doll, subject to the whims of those dressing her, positioned this way and that, valued only so far as she was pretty to look at. All of this pomp and circumstance for breakfast? It was not very long ago that she and beast had not even used utensils to eat their porridge.

"Is this really necessary?" Belle asked, skewing her mouth to one side and raising an eyebrow, the expression she typically made when she found a situation ridiculous, "It's breakfast."

"It's a meeting with the king's brother, the master's father, a prince du sang and your future father-in-law. My dear, the occasion could not be more formal," Madame de le Grande Bouche told her, she looked to the servant now tugging on Belle's hair and said, "Pull her hair up, but don't tease it too high—I don't care how fashionable it is in Versailles to have hair that is two feet tall, I think it looks ridiculous."

"Two feet tall?" Belle repeated, now looking to the man who was raking a comb through her chestnut locks with some alarm.

"You'll be wonderful," Mrs. Potts said, holding Belle briefly by the shoulders and looking her in the eye before hurrying off. Belle looked back to the servants fussing over her and bit her lip. As they lifted the dress she had been wearing off of her and fitted her with a stay, tightening the laces, Belle realized this was exactly what she had been dreading about royal life. The ceremony and constraining expectations, the suffocating traditions that smothered her individuality, the inability to be her true self. With each tug on the laces Belle felt the rigidity of royal life tightening around her. She was a girl who rode horses and ran through fields, had snowball fights and went ice skating. She watched herself in the mirror and saw that peasant girl she had been not so long ago being shrouded beneath layers of expensive powder and satin and felt the same poignant pinch in her heart that she felt when she was looking at her prince but remembering the beast. She couldn't help but think, as the servants busied themselves with changing her provincial simplicity into something much more regal, that she was getting tired of transformations.

* * *

Belle's footsteps echoed off the marble floors as she made her way to the West Wing. Her shoes had more of a heel than she typically wore and it was necessary to gather the copious layers of her skirts in her arms and lift them as she walked, so that though she meant to go quickly her progress to the prince's living chambers was quite slow. At last she reached the enormous double doors of the West Wing and let her skirts fall around her, hesitating momentarily. Since Adam was not yet her husband, and since she did feel a little bad for invading his privacy when she had first gone into the West Wing all those months ago (though she would never tell him that), she raised her arm and gave a loud knock on the doors.

"Leave me," Adam's voice snapped loudly through the doors.

"It's me," Belle responded. There was a pause.

"Come in," he said in a much softer voice.

Belle reached up and, with a little effort, pulled the doors open. She looked around the tremendous space of the prince's sleeping quarters. Judging by the fact that Adam was nowhere in sight and that his bed curtains were still drawn she quickly surmised that her beloved was still in bed. She walked to his sprawling four poster bed and stood just outside the curtains.

"It's time for you to get up my prince of the blood," she told him through the curtains, her voice loving but firm.

The prince grunted in response. Belle paused for a moment, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, she allowed herself to roll her eyes.

"Adam," she said, "You know that your father and stepmother are downstairs waiting for us. The longer it takes you to go down there, the worse it will be."

Adam sighed and Belle heard him shifting in his bed. He made a noise of irritation in his throat that sounded distinctly like a growl.

"And to think I ever wondered, even for a moment, what happened to my beast," Belle said.

Behind the curtains Adam smiled and reached up to pull one side open. When he caught sight of Belle he was startled, and he sat up a little in bed, blinking and looking her over. She was wearing a cream colored satin dress with vines and roses embroidered in the fabric in green, pink, and gold thread. The front of the dress opened to reveal a layer of pink silk, and her skirts flowed out from her waist in several luxurious layers, so that whenever Belle moved she seemed to be cascading through a current of fabric. Around her neck she wore three strings of pearls and her chestnut hair was piled on her head and also adorned with pearls and crystal ornaments. Though the servants had refrained from too much powder and rouge so as not to eclipse her natural beauty, she still wore more make-up then she ever had before.

"Mon dieu," the prince muttered, "You look . . ."

He trailed off. She looked as though she had just stepped out of the halls of Versailles. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of other royals but looking at her now the memories came back, of ladies with dresses so wide they had to go through the doors sideways, of card games and gambling, of noblewomen giggling behind fans, and men telling tales of who killed the biggest stag when they had last gone hunting all while fine music tinkled in the background. Belle, standing before him now in all her finery, her lips painted the same shade as the roses on her dress, looked like she was a member of the royal family. Indeed, it seemed the only thing missing from her impressive bearing was a crown. Certainly she looked beautiful, but the prince felt something he didn't quite understand while his eyes swept over her. It was a feeling that tugged at him just a little more gently than sadness and caused him pause.

"Where is the young girl in the blue dress who walked so bravely into my castle all those months ago?" Adam asked, sitting up the rest of the way in his bed and taking her hands in his, looking up into her face with his eyebrows furrowed in consternation.

"Adam," Belle responded, smiling down at him, "It's me."

He continued to look her over for a protracted moment before realizing fully what she was saying. He looked back into her eyes and smiled.

"It _is_ you," he responded.

Her smile widened and she felt a rush of tenderness towards him. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the mouth, and wrapping his arms her waist, he returned it. Belle pulled her mouth away but hesitated, mere centimeters from his lips, her eyes still half closed. She was torn between wanting to continue and sensing that continuing to kiss each other in such close proximity to the bed behind the closed doors of the West Wing when they were not yet married was probably not a good idea. She kissed him on the cheek and stood back up straight. He continued to hold her around her waist and leaned into her, resting his cheek against her stomach.

"Mrs. Potts told me you have a headache," Belle said, running her slender fingers soothingly through his thick auburn hair.

"Hmmm," Adam mumbled, "I do. I think perhaps I am becoming ill."

"Ahhh, this is a common affliction that often affects people who have had too much to drink the previous night," Belle said, continuing to stroke the prince's hair. Adam looked up at her, looking both a little sulky and a little mischievous.

"It hurts terribly," he told her quite seriously.

"I'm sure it does," she responded, tracing the arc of his eyebrows with her fingertips as he looked up at her.

He looked back down and closed his eyes. Pressing against the softness of Belle seemed to lessen the sharpness of his headache. He then remembered that his father was downstairs.

"It is harder seeing him than I thought it would be," he mumbled into Belle's stomach. He was not accustomed to expressing his feelings to others. When he was a boy he had lived only with servants, and it wasn't appropriate for him to show emotional weakness around them. Even before then, he was raised to believe that a prince controls his emotions, never shows discomfort or distress, always maintains a steady countenance. He had had very strong emotions ever since he could remember, and the constant strain of repressing them had caused resentment to take root with in him like a weed, steadily crowding out his gentler, kinder emotions. He was determined to keep his heart open with Belle, and he supposed discussing what was troubling him was part of that.

"It must be painful," Belle said quietly, "Just try to remember that you face him as the man you are now, not the boy that you once were."

"I suppose that means I should dress and go downstairs rather than sulking in bed?" Adam asked, pulling away from her and looking up at her again.

"That would be a good start," Belle responded, smiling.

He took her hands and turned them over in his. He looked at her palms for a moment, and then kissed each one gently.

"I'll be down in a few moments," he told her, rising from bed and kissing her forehead. She nodded at him and smiled, and then gathered her skirts once more into her arms to make what she feared would be a torturous journey downstairs to the dining hall in her presently regal and imminently impractical state of dress.

* * *

Belle heard muttering as she approached the dining hall, but her footsteps announced her arrival before she entered the room, so that the muttering quickly hushed just as her embroidered slipper slid across the threshold. Prince Joseph and his wife both turned their faces towards her to take a good look at her. His wife dipped her head and smiled while Adam's father beheld her with an expression that hovered between impressed and calculating.

Belle sank into a curtsy and held it.

"You may rise," Adam's father said coldly.

"Please excuse my tardiness. I apologize for keeping your royal highnesses waiting." Belle said, rising slowly from the billows of her skirts like an angel from a cloud.

"Please be seated," he responded, his face expressionless. Belle made her way to the chair across from Adam's stepmother, not needing to be royal to understand that the seat at the end of the table opposite Prince Joseph was meant for Adam, as the other male and member of the royal family. Lumiere hurried to Belle's chair to pull it out for her.

"Thank you," Belle told Lumiere, and she couldn't help but notice that he appeared harried and that the liveliness with which he typically conducted himself was substantially subdued. She attempted to make eye contact with him, but he hurried away before she was able. She suspected that the presence of Adam's father was causing the servants nearly as much stress as it was causing Adam.

"Tell me," Adam's father began somewhat ponderously, not bothering to look at Belle with his steely grey eyes, "Does my son make a habit of spending his nights getting drunk in front of peasants and wasting his days laying about in bed?

Belle glanced at Mrs. Potts, who had come to the table to refill Prince Joseph's tea cup. An expression of vexation crossed quickly over the old woman's typically serene features before returning to a neutral expression.

"You may be pleased and surprised, your grace," Belle said, "To know that typically Ad—the prince conducts himself with a great deal of dignity. Last night was an aberration, the timing of which was unfortunate given your arrival."

"An aberration, was it? You speak very fine French mademoiselle," Prince Joseph said, and though it seemed he was paying Belle a compliment it sounded faintly like an accusation, "Have you studied at a university or have you been privately tutored?"

"Neither," Belle responded, "I've only read a lot of books."

Prince Joseph raised an eyebrow and seemed to be finished with his half-hearted attempts to engage Belle in conversation.

"Smart and beautiful. Such a rare and winning combination," Adam's stepmother chimed in, smiling at Belle.

"You are very kind to say so," Belle demurred. She considered Adam's stepmother. She was very beautiful but there was something inaccessible about it, so that though she pleased the eyes she did not quite warm the heart. Though Belle supposed that could also be the feelings of intimidation she felt in the presence of Adam's father. Her eyes were a vivid emerald and her long golden hair poured over her shoulders and down her back like honey. Her skin was as smooth and flawless as porcelain and yet there was a maturity that almost seemed to border on shrewdness in her expressions and her bearing, so that there was an odd sort of agelessness in her appearance.

They all sat in a heavy, awkward silence for a few moments, sizing each other up while trying not to let on they were sizing one another up. Belle did her best to suppress her irritation that Adam had stayed so long in bed, thereby lengthening the amount of time she had to sit unaccompanied with his parents. She was so proud of all the progress Adam had made, but there were still times when it was not difficult for her to imagine the petulant young boy he had once been. As Belle sat, aware of Prince Joseph and his wife eyeing her, it seemed that time had been stretched so thin by the unspoken tension in the hall that seconds lengthened into hours.

At last Belle heard the sound of the prince's boots approaching the dining hall hurriedly. She looked up and saw Adam striding into the room in a deep red jacket with gold trim over a brown vest and brown pants. Each time he entered a room she found herself startled by her attraction to his human form. He made eye contact with her and she felt a rush sweep through her.

"My apologies for my lateness," the prince said, coming around the table to kiss Belle on the cheek before settling into his seat at the end of the table, unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap in one fluid motion.

"You've kept us waiting most the morning," his father snapped.

"You've kept me waiting most my life," Adam retorted, rubbing his temples as Mrs. Potts poured some tea into his cup.

"Is this why you asked me to come here? So you can show me how upset you are with me by undermining my authority in front of peasants and forcing me to wait for your arrival like a commoner?" his father asked. Hearing Adam's father refer to commoners and peasants with such disdain made Belle distinctly uncomfortable. She shifted slightly in her seat and glanced at Adam who met her gaze and looked ashamed.

"You are a very arrogant man," he said, shaking his head as he set his cup down decisively back on its saucer and pinned his blue eyes on his father reprovingly.

"And you are a little boy who has always been better at throwing tantrums than fulfilling your responsibilities." His father replied coldly. He motioned for Lumiere to approach without bothering to turn to look at him.

"Bring breakfast. Now. I'm famished and we've waited long enough," Prince Joseph said, in a voice that sounded both authoritative and bored.

"Can you not even say please?" Adam said, looking after Lumiere with a concerned expression as he hurried off, wordlessly, to the kitchens.

"You want me to coo over them and plead with them to do their job? They are servants. So let them serve," Adam's father said, "What on Earth has gotten into you?"

"Do you really not know?" Adam asked. Immediately a tense awkwardness descended over the table in the unique way that only a truth no one quite wants to confront can cause. Adam's father and stepmother exchanged meaningful looks as did Adam and Belle.

"We . . . assumed you wouldn't want us to see you . . . in that condition," his stepmother said weakly, after a few seconds of no one speaking.

"We were attempting to preserve your dignity," his father added, his voice for the first time containing a trace of softness.

"And so concerned were you for my dignity that you couldn't even send me a letter?" the prince asked, clearly not convinced by his father's weak defense.

"It didn't occur to us that you still had the ability to read in that state," his father replied, looking genuinely baffled, "Could you?"

"Not . . .for a while I . . .so you _knew_ about the curse?" Adam asked, looking at his father incredulously.

"We were informed," his father answered, looking down at his plate.

"By who?" Adam pressed.

"By the enchantress of course," his father responded, "She was terribly fond of your mother. She was convinced that . . .letting you continue on as you were would be a disservice to her memory."

"And what about you? I was a boy. You were my father and you abandoned me. Where is your curse?" Adam demanded.

"It was you who made the decision to let an old woman freeze out in the bitter cold, not I. You have always been a spoiled and selfish young man. It is clear to me, particularly after last night, you haven't the faintest idea how to conduct yourself as a prince, nor do you appreciate the responsibilities that you bear with the crown." His father retorted acidly.

"Whose fault is that? You sent me away without teaching me anything!" Adam yelled, banging his fist against the table with such force the china shook.

"Whose fault is it? Your own! Don't sit there carping at me like an insolent child! It is time for you to grow up and be accountable, or has the curse taught you nothing?!" his father roared back, his voice resounding through the dining hall even after he finished speaking.

Adam opened his mouth to respond but then closed it. He looked down at his lap, looking thoroughly chastened. Belle desperately wanted to defend Adam, wanted to confront Prince Joseph with the fact that he had been a terrible father and demand an apology from him for abandoning his son. She hated his callousness towards the servants and his heartlessness towards Adam, who was clearly hurt by his rejection of him. She knew that her fiancée was sensitive, that being left first by his mother and then his father had cut him deeply. She remembered his joy when he had still been the beast when she had come back, and how surprised he had seemed. She realized, just then, that it had been the first time that someone he had loved had come back after leaving him. It made her even angrier at his father and it was all she could do to contain her fury behind her make-up and placid expression.

The servants brought breakfast into the noiseless dining hall, eggs, crepes, various berries and jellies, and salted meats. Everyone began to eat silently, though such a heaviness had settled in Belle's stomach she could scarcely swallow her forkful of crepe.

"You'll have to assist my son a great deal in matters of politics and decorum, my dear," his father said to her, looking at her expectantly, "Tell me, mademoiselle Belle, what house are you from?"

"I'm from the cottage just outside of town," Belle responded, only seconds later realizing with a great deal of embarrassment that he had in fact been asking her which noble family she was from.

Prince Joseph stiffened and looked quickly to his wife with a shocked expression. He then looked over at Adam, who now had lifted his gaze and was looking back at him defiantly.

"Do you mean to tell me," Prince Joseph said in utter disbelief, "That you intend on marrying a peasant?"

"Don't call her that," Adam snapped, "I love Belle and we are to be married. You really are unbearably rude and conceited. If being a beast for 10 years has made me less like you then the curse was indeed a blessing. "

"This proposed marriage is a matter we will discuss at length in private," Adam's father hissed, glancing quickly in Belle's direction.

"My marriage proposal has already been accepted by the only person who has the power to reject it," Adam countered hotly, "There is nothing further to discuss except wedding plans."

"She did break the spell," Adam's stepmother chimed in, "That is quite an act of service to the crown."

"I love your son. Breaking the spell was no act of service, it was love. I love him." Belle said passionately, unable to sit quietly any longer. Adam's father and stepmother looked at her, startled. She met Adam's father's gaze and held it steadily with an intensity that somehow seemed innocent rather than defiant. He sat back a little in his chair and blinked, thrown off momentarily by Belle's courageous sweetness.

"You married for love too," Adam said quietly. A look of surprise and grief passed over his father's face. It was understood by everyone, including his stepmother, that Adam was referring to his mother.

"We were young . . ." his father said in a voice scarcely above a whisper. Adam's stepmother sat with a distinctly vacant expression and a removed look in her eyes.

"I must marry Belle just as you needed to marry my mother," Adam told his father. His father looked at him, and for the first time Belle saw something flicker in those grey eyes that looked like it once could have been love.

"It won't be easy and I can hardly give this arrangement my blessing," his father said, clearing his throat, the coldness returning to his voice, "You need my brother's permission. For this we will have to journey to Versailles and you will need to request an audience with him. The first order of business will be getting him to recognize that you've returned to us. The second will be convincing him to approve of the marriage. The third will be to persuade him to accept this girl into the royal family as a princess through marriage."

"Then we'll set off for Versailles as soon as provisions can be collected and the carriages prepared," the prince replied. He looked to Belle and smiled. He appeared to be confident, but Belle felt substantially less so.

Though she was excited at the thought of seeing Versailles, the thought of being in the midst of all of the royals while being thought of as the peasant girl and constantly appraised for her worthiness hardly appealed to her. She shuddered to think of how uncomfortably she would be dressed while she attempted to navigate the labyrinthine social expectations at court as a lady and potential princess. Before she allowed herself to feel too sorry for herself, however, she thought about how Adam, as a beast, had gone to great lengths to reclaim his humanity and be a worthy suitor for her, learning to eat with utensils, learning to read, learning to dance, learning to control his temper and, finally, learning to put her well-being above his own. She supposed if he could learn to be human again after ten years as a beast she could do what was necessary to become a princess.


End file.
